


feelings are fatal

by 2PLYRGAY



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: I’m sorry, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, M/M, Post-Squip, actually according to some1 on Twitter this entire fic is a monstrosity, angst lmao, but it doesn’t feel like post-squip, do not trust him, i will rewrite this someday just give me a sec, michael is a manipulative hoe, murder (perhaps), please forget the monstrosity that is the first few chapters, the ending is sad lmao, uhhh, you will probably cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 38,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2PLYRGAY/pseuds/2PLYRGAY
Summary: "If I knew that day on the playground how absolutelyfuckedyou'd turn out to be, I would've kept my distance."
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, Rich Goranski/Jeremy Heere (minor)
Kudos: 11





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> um- hi  
> so this was my second boyfs fic ever, pls excuse the shitty writing in the beginning  
> heavy trigger warning for abuse, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and some kind of eating disorder  
> thanks for taking the time to read this messy, dark fic  
> i appreciate u lots :)
> 
> -jeremy (2plyrgay)

**Jeremy's POV**

It's dark. I'm cold. I don't know what comes next.

I want Michael. I want him to take me into his arms and never do what he's done again.

We can't have what we want.

The water's cold. It's getting hard to breathe.

Darkness engulfs my vision as I take my last suffocated breath.

Why did I end up here?

_

**_4 months pre-death_ **

"Jere-Bear, wake up, baby."

"Noooo."

"Please? Do it for Micha."

"Okay, for my Micha." I smile and open my eyes. My beautiful boyfriend is staring right down at me. "Hi, baby," I giggle and sit up.

"My Jeremy," He smiles, kissing my cheek.

"Kiss me somewhere else," I roll my eyes teasingly.

"Like...here?" He laughs as he trails down to that one spot on my collarbone.

"Mmh, stop." I smirk as he kissed the spot. "It's not time for this, Micha~..." He starts sucking the skin gently and I groan quietly in response.

"You love it, 'Miah." He mumbles against my skin.

"G-God, you're so good at th-- _oh, god_!--that! S-Stop, I'm going to have a huge ma-- _ah_ \--mark!"

"Then everyone will know that you belong to me." He pulls away, smirking.

"They already do, Micha."

"Well...Then that's that. We're boyfriends and everyone knows it."

"And I'm glad that they do. Nobody should take my Micha if they know that you're mine," I smile.

"Your Micha is too scary." He sits up.

"Scary? You don't scare me."

"I'm capable of being very scary."

"I doubt it but okay," I smile and lean in, kissing him slowly. He pulls me in closer and I close my eyes, trying my best to avoid glasses being smushed into my face. He moves his hands around my body but not too much.

I pull away all of a sudden. "Stop! Don't touch me!"

"Jeremy?" He moves his hands away and pushes his glasses up a bit.

"Don't! Stop touching me!" I scoot away from him. "Stop!"

"Jeremy, calm down, I--"

"I-I don't want you touching me like that!" Tears fill my eyes.

"Jeremy, I'm sorry--"

"Michael, it's fine, just stop touching me!" The tears fall down my face.

"Why can't I touch you?"

"Because I asked!"

"You're not asking, you're demanding!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Jeremy! Calm down!"

"Y-You're not allowed to touch me like that. Nobody is." I wipe my tears.

"Jeremy, I'm sorry for touching you like that,"

"Y-You mean it?" I sniffle and wipe my face again.

"Yeah. I'm sorry." He rests his hands on the sides of my face. "I'm really sorry."

"I-I know." I sigh and look down. He wipes the tears from my cheeks.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, okay, 'Miah?"

"Y-You're sure?"

"I promise, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you like they did."

"Y-You promise...?"

"Yes." He pulls me into a gentle kiss, pulling away shortly after we connect. "I promise, Jeremiah, and I would never let anyone hurt you."

That was sort of true. He didn't let anyone hurt me...but himself.

-

**_3 months, 3 weeks pre-death_ **

"Michael? Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just...peeing."

"You've been peeing for twenty minutes?"

"Um...yeah."

"Please let me in, Michael."

"No! Can't do that!"

"Micha-"

"Nope!" I hear some shuffling around.

"You're not--Michael, let me in!" I jiggle the doorknob but it's locked. "Fuck!"

"Just give me a minute!"

"Michael--" The door manages to unlock by itself, causing me to stumble foward into the bathroom. "Oh my God! Michael, stop!"

"Jeremy!" He's not wearing his glasses. Blood drops down his forearm. I'm paralyzed with fear. "It's not--It's not what you think!"

"Stop! We were doing so good with this! It's been three years since you last cut, Micha! I-Is it me..? Did I cause it? I'm sorry, Micha, I-"

"Jeremy, stop! Let me explain!"

"You can't!" I manage to take a step forward.

"Get away from me!"

"Michael, no!"

"Get away!"

I only step closer. "I'm gonna help you clean up, Micha, and we're going to get through this together."

"No! I don't want you to be near me!"

"Michael, I want to be near you!" I'm standing in front of him.

"Don't!" His arm reaches across the space between us and I feel a burning pain, dropping to the ground when I process what just happened.

"Jeremy! FUCK!" He kneels down in front of me.

"Y-You cut me!" I feel the area where my neck and left shoulder meet, pulling my hand away when I feel something warm and liquidy. I look at my hand and it's covered in dark red blood.

"I'm so sorry, Jeremy!"

"How'd you... Why'd you do this?!" My face heats up and my vision goes slightly blurry. Tears fall.

"I-I'm gonna fix it! Fuck, Jere, I'm so fucking sorry! I didn't mean to!" He stands up and looks around for a towel, grabbing a freshly cleaned white one in a panic. He places it on the cut which is spilling out tons of blood. "I'm sorry, Jeremy! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"And you said that you wouldn't let anyone hurt me, Michael!"

"I didn't know I was going to! I didn't think I was going to relapse! I didn't want to hurt you, Jeremy!" He slightly cleans up some of the blood before applying pressure again. I can see the dripping blood drying on his wrist. There's a puddle of mine on the bright white tile of his bathroom floor.

"I-It hurts!"

"It's going to hurt, Jeremy!" He's crying now.

"I don't understand why you did this to me!" I cry.

"I don't either! I'm sorry, Jeremy, I'll never do it again!" He insists.

Somewhere in the back of my mind. _He's not sorry._

"You're sure?!" It burns.

"I'm positive!"

"Don't lie to me, Michael." My vision goes blurry and grows dark. My eyes start closing.

"Jeremy? Jeremy! Don't leave me!"


	2. one

**Jeremy's POV**

**_Three months, two weeks, six days pre-death_ **

Oh my God. I'm dead. Wait...

There's a quiet beeping noise and the room is cold. I open my eyes. Everything is white for a second but my eyes quickly adjust. I look around to see that I'm in a hospital room. I'm hooked up to one of those machines that tells people if you're dead or not. Based on the beeping, I'm not.

"Jeremy? Holy shit, you're up."

"H-Huh?" I respond.

"Took you long enough. I've been informed that your sicko boyfriend tried to murder you?"

"Rich, come on." I sigh and look over at him. "I just woke up from possible death. How long was I out?"

"Like, a day. They thought you died, like, twice."

I sigh. I have a frantic realization. "Where's Michael?"

"We don't know. He disappeared when they took you in the ambulance. What happened, anyways?"

"What did he say that happened?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Something like an accident?"

The door opens. "Mr. Goranski? Visiting hours are almost over." The nurse barely notices me.

"Well, gotta go, tall-ass. Stay out of trouble. Find your boyfriend." Rich stands up and begins leaving.

"Wait, he's up." The nurse realizes.

"Y-Yes, ma'am. I'm up." I laugh gently.

"I'm gonna go now." Rich scoots past the nurss and leaves which makes me feel a bit anxious. I haven't been in a hospital in a situation like this. Sure, I've gotten surgery before, yeah, I did accidentally break my wrist in second grade and the whole SQUIP-cident thing happened, but it's not like this.

"Ahem. Good evening, Mr. Heere--"

"Please call me Jeremy,"

"Of course. How are you feeling right now, Jeremy?" She smiles and sits down on a rolling stool thingy in front of my hospital bed.

"I-I'm glad I'm alive. I'm confused. I'm scared."

"We're glad you're alive too. I need a break from all of the death stuff." She laughs sadly. "Would you mind elaborating on what you mean by confused? And scared?"

"Uh, well, not exactly sure how I ended up in this situation. I'm scared that my boyf--best friend isn't safe and I just want to see him so much." I sigh.

"Hmm." She writes something down on her clipboard. "This is a question I have to ask everyone, on a scale of one to ten, what would you rate your pain? Ten being the worst type of pain and one being no pain at all."

"Um...seven. Emotionally is a fifteen."

"I...Well...We've taken care of your cut. It was pretty deep. You lost a lot of blood. Do you know what happened?"

Should I tell her the truth...? Yes. I'm going to tell the truth.

"Um..I guess I fell or something and landed on something sharp." Fuck! I can't even tell the truth!

"Interesting..." She sighs and takes some more notes. "Do you think you know who called us?"

"Was it Michael? I think it was because he was there when it happened."

"... I'm not allowed to tell you this. I shouldn't be. You just remind me so much of someone in particular... this is our secret. Okay?" I nod. "When he called, he could barely speak. He kept saying that it was his fault."

"Oh my God..." I mumble.

"We checked up on him when the ambulance left. He couldn't function. He kept saying sorry...did he do something to you?"

"No." I lie. "H-He loves me. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose. He wouldn't hurt me." I try to convince myself but it's not working.

"You're sure, Jeremy?"

"Absolutely..." Not.

She jots another note down. God, I hate that clipboard. "I'm going to leave you to take in the situation. It's really hard, isn't it? I'll be back to check on you." She stands up from her stool.

"H-Heh, thanks, Nurse..." I trail off because I don't know her name.

"Heidi Hansen."

"Nurse Heidi." I finish.

-  
 ** _Three months, two weeks, five days pre-death_**

"I'm trying my best."

"The fuck, you are not!"

"Come on, Rich."

"Eat your food for me, please?"

"It's fucking disgusting."

"So is your attitude, Jeremy. So is what your boyfriend did. Eat your fucking food or I will force it down your throat."

"That's kinky."

"Shut up, tall-ass. You're scaring me. Please eat."

"I don't want to."

"I don't care about what you want. You need to eat."

"Fight me."

"I will if you don't eat, Jeremy."

"Just leave me alone." I groan. "I don't wanna eat."

"I'm gonna find Michael and kick his ass for doing this to you."

"No, you're not."

"Yesth, I am. I'm going to kick his ass so hard."

"It was an accident, Rich. He didn't mean to!"

"So he just slashed the back of your neck with a razor blade on impulse?" Rich stares at me. I sigh.

"It's not Michael's fault."

"It's Michael's fault, you stupid bitch."

"Rude. No need for name calling."

"Jeremy, I'm warning you, this isn't like him! Things aren't going to turn out well!"

"Just let me think for a moment."

-  
 ** _Three months, two weeks pre-death_**

"I wanna slap you so much right now. You're never good at Mario Kart!"

"Hmmh." I sigh.

"Jere..?"

"Yeah?"

"A-Are you alright?"

Tell him the truth. "Yeah." Fuck, not again! "W-Well, actually..." I trail off.

"Actually?"

"It was a dick move for you to run off like that."

"H-Huh?".

"You didn't even bother coming to check on me. I hung out with Rich all week because you didn't think you should have come check on your own boyfriend."

"Jeremy, I--"

"You didn't stay when they took me. You didn't try. I feel so small compared to your weapons and shit and the least you could have done was visit me, but you didn't even do that. You nearly killed me but I still believed that you would have come to see me! And I forgave you for it! Rich is right, this is not you!"

"So you're listening to Rich now?" He stands up.

"Yes! Come on, Michael, you've never done that before! Something's wrong!"

"Maybe you're what's wrong!"

"So, you're tired of me?!"

"Yes! I'm so tired of you, Jeremiah, I spend so much time with you because I'm tired of you!" The sarcasm is clearly there.

"Stop yelling, your moms are asleep!" I stand up as well.

"Do I give a fuck about who's asleep or not, Jeremy?!"

"You don't give a fuck about anything, Michael! Not about me, not about them, not about anyone!"

"Just shut the fuck up, Jeremy! God!" He shoves me and I stumble back.

So...this is how it's gonna be...?

"Fine! I'll shut up! I'll leave too!"

"You're not going anywhere." He says with a threatening undertone.

"W-wha--What?" I watch as he steps closer. I'm terrified.

"You should apologize."

"Apologize for what? Telling the truth?!" I shout at him and I feel a sharp sting throughout my left cheek. He pulls his hand away.

"I'm sorry--" He leans in to look at how bad it is but I push him away, rubbing my cheek in pain.

"What are you going to do, kiss me or hurt me, Michael?"

"Jeremy, I..."

"I'm leaving. Don't try and stop me." I don't bother grabbing my things. I push him out of my way and climb up the stairs, slamming every door on my way out.


	3. two

**Jeremy's POV**

**_Three months, one week, five days pre-death_ **

"Jeremy...what happened?" Christine asks.

"Michael accidentally hit me. No big deal."

"It doesn't look accidental, Jeremy. Is something wrong?"

"No, we're fine. He's not hurting me or anything."

"Jeremy, we're... we're concerned. You need to stay away from him."

"It's not like he's going to kill me or some crazy shit like that. I'm not worried about it."

"Your emotions are going everywhere, Jeremy. You really can't hide from this."

"Chris, he's not gonna hurt me anymore."

"You shouldn't have to think that there's a chance he won't. He's not supposed to treat you like this."

"I'm not gonna dump him or anything. Remember that musical we listened to where the girl eventually dumps him and he goes crazy?"

"Jeremy, that's fiction."

"It's the same thing as real life!"

"Jeremy, please don't let him hurt you."

"I..I won't. I promise."

-

The water is burning hot, just how I like it. I can practically feel my skin burning off. The steam is making it slightly hard to breathe but I don't mind. The burning water runs over the shock scars and eventually the cut. It obviously hurts. I try my best to avoid getting water on my face.

I'm left alone with my thoughts. I try to avoid thinking but it's not working. I don't look anywhere but directly at the shower wall.

"It's so hard to breathe," I mumble to myself. "Maybe that's a good thing. Don't I want to fucking die anyways?" I nervously laugh to myself.

"Convenient how Dad is at work now, huh? I could kill myself and he wouldn't know until he sees. Nobody would." I chuckle, the dark thought spilling into the air.

"I'm so sensitive..." Tears mix in with the water. "This is just a huge misunderstanding." I look up at the ceiling, trying hard not to look at any part of my body. "God, I'm fucking ugly. Michael thinks I'm beautiful...but he's not here to tell me."

I run a hand through my soaking wet hair. "D-Does he think I'm beautiful..?" I whisper.

A knock at the door. "Jeremy? Are you alright in there?"

"H-Huh?"

"You should turn the water down, it's not safe. Let me know when you're done, okay?"

"Y-Yeah, Dad."

-  
 ** _Three months, one week, four days pre-death_**

"Are you scared of me?"

"What? No."

"Just admit it, you're scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you, Michael." I turn my gaze from the sky to him.

"So you're not lying?" He's still looking up at the stars.

"I'm not lying and I'm not scared of you. Why would I be?"

"Don't know. Maybe it's 'cause I hurt you."

"You don't mean to."

"Right." He sighs. "It's crazy how you still--" He's cut off by the sound of my ringtone. He looks at me, already loosing patience. I pull my phone from my pocket, answering immediately.

"Hello?" I look away from Michael.

"Jeremy, we need to talk."

"Is it a big thing? I'm sort of busy..."

"Yeah, I'd prefer to say it in person, but if you're busy, I can say it now."

I look back at Michael. He gives an approving nod. "...Where do you wanna meet, Rich?"

"The park. Come _alone_."

-

"Rich, it's one in the morning on a Monday in September. I'm cold. Can you speed this up?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to speak now, don't kill me. You're alone, right? Your sicko boyfriend isn't hiding in the bushes?"

"It's just us two, Rich." I say and he isn't convinced. "Come on. Just say what you need to."

"I'm scared for you, tall-ass. He's going to hurt you badly."

"It's not like that, it was an accident--"

"Was not. I'm just looking out for you--"

"I don't need your help. Why do you care, anyways? Like, yeah, you're my friend but we're not that close."

"Because I care more than you think, Jere, and I don't want you getting hurt like how I get hurt. I don't want you getting hurt at all. Pain isn't love! He doesn't hurt you because he loves you! That's not possible, Jeremy!"

"What do I know about love, Rich? Nothing."

"You know that he's hurting you. You know that something's wrong. You don't know how much people actually LOVE you. He does not love you! I love you!" He covers his mouth. "I didn't mean that--"

"What?" I say just to have him repeat it.

"I..Ugh. I really like you, Jeremy, but I wasn't saying any of that stuff because I like you. He really is hurting you! His hurting you is not his love. He doesn't know how to love anymore. He doesn't love you like I...he doesn't love you like he should."

"Rich..." It all hits me at once. He's right.

"Now you know. I'm going home." He begins walking off.

"Rich, wait. I...You're right."

"Good to know." He keeps walking, so I start following. "Can you not?"

"I'm sorry. For everything." He stops when his text tone goes off. He looks at his phone, squinting in the sudden bright light, but the squinting turns into a look of horror. "...Rich?" He turns and looks at me.

"Go home. We'll talk about this later."

"But I-"

"Go home! Not his house, yours! Go!" He shouts and then sighs. "I'm warning you. You should go home."

"Rich, why--?"

"Please listen for once."

-

**_Three months, one week, three days pre-death_ **

"Yeah, you should really run."

"Michael-"

"No, I get it. I'm just a bit jealous is all. I don't blame him for having the hots for you, it's the same way that I feel."

"Then why am I pinned up against the--"

"Because I'm not done talking yet, Jeremiah. Got an issue with that?" I shake my head. "Good."

"How'd you even--?

"I didn't ask for questions." He sighs. "What am I doing?" He backs away, walking over to his dresser. He opens a drawer and pulls something out.

I catch a full glimpse of it. "I-Is that real?!"

"No, it's fake. Yes, it's real!"

"If you hurt any of our friends--"

"Your friends, darling." He cuts me off.

"Fine, _my_ friends. If anybody else gets hurt--"

"Shut it." This is exactly like Heathers. Ugh. "I'm not going to shoot anybody, are you nuts? I wouldn't want to kill anyone." _That's exactly what he'd want to do!_

I begin to say something but he stops me. "You're going to keep your mouth shut about this or you're first. I'm not asking for any commentary from that pretty little mouth of yours."

I'm not against the whole thing degrading thing, but this is making me very uncomfortable and I hate it.

"Save whatever you have to say for the shower. Whenever you're alone. I don't want to hear what you have to say because it's not that important to me what you think. I'm going to put this away and, hopefully, not have to take it out again. Okay?" I nod. "Good." He places the gun gently in the back of the drawer. I'm fucking _petrified_.

"I-I...What would you do...if something were to happen with our relationship..?" I ask.

"What? You're going to dump me?"

"No, I'm not! I'm honest! I would never dump you, I love you too much." Every time I say I love you, it looses more of its meaning.

"I'd obviously cry. I'd be upset. I wouldn't hurt you, if that's what you're wondering." I can tell he's lying. "I'd hope we'd still be able to be best friends with benefits, perhaps?"

"Um...Okay."

"Come on, Jeremy. Let's go to sleep. I'm tired."

Sleep sounds nice. Maybe I'll have a good dream that I escape from this.


	4. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i could delete this chapter i would

**Jeremy's POV**

**_Three months, one week pre-death_ **

We're sitting on the roof again.

"Kiss me, okay?" I ask. "Let's not argue." Michael nods, pulling me into a gentle kiss. I kiss back not as gently but that's not what causes him to pull away.

"Holy hell, have you been drinking?!"

"What? No." I lie. It's only ONE can. Not even a big deal. "I don't drink."

"I can taste it, Jeremy. Why the fuck are you drinking?"

"It was one can. It's not a huge deal."

"Great, now you drink?"

"I didn't even mean to!"

"So it just happened?"

"Yeah..!"

"That explains why you called me at two in the morning asking if I'm 'dtf'."

"Don't talk about it. It's worn off since then." I feel my face heat up slightly. "I was intoxicated, so don't get any ideas, Mell."

"Wasn't planning on it. I respect your wishes."

"Good." I sigh. "You're scary sometimes."

"I've been waiting to hear that." Michael stares at the sky.

"Yeah, well, it's really true. I'm not going to deny it. Yet, I'm not scared of you. You can be scary without scaring me."

"That makes no sense."

"It does to me. You scare other people, but I could never be scared of you. You're the love of my life."

"You really mean that, Jeremy?" Michael asks sarcastically. "You're a bad liar."

"I'm not ly..." I trail off.

"Would you be scared if I pushed you off this roof?"

"Well, obviously, but I don't see why you would p--" I'm cut off by him shoving me and my heart skips like, twenty beats at once. I don't move but it still scares the living hell out of me. "What the fuck?!"

"I just wanted to see if it worked. Too bad you didn't fall."

"Too bad?! Are you TRYING to kill me?!"

"Nah." Michael crawls over to the window and climbs back into the house. I sigh and follow him.

-

"Why do you never wear a jacket, Jere? It's getting colder outside. I don't want you to get sick." Michael takes my hands into his. He's acting all innocent. I fucking hate when he does this.

"It's not that cold to me." I lie. I'm literally the worst with the cold. I don't want him finding out my actual intentions. It's not a big deal. Stop wondering. Stop. Shut up.

Michael speaks after a few moments. "...Jere, can you roll up your sleeves? ...Please?"

"W-What?" On impulse, I look down at my arms, covered up by the bulky fabric of one of my sweatshirts (the shirt is light blue, in case you're wondering). I grip the edges of my sleeves in my hands. "Why? You know I don't-"

"Just let me look, Jeremy."

"I.." I sigh. I let go of my sleeves and roll them halfway up my arms. "See? Nothing. You think I'm a liar, yeah, but I told you the truth." He holds my wrists and examines my arms before deciding that I am, indeed, correct. He pulls my sleeves down and grabs my hands.

"I never said you were a liar. I just said you're a bad one." Michael's tone goes from concerned to upset. "You're always blaming me for things that I don't do or say, or things that I'd never do. I'd never hurt you on purpose and you know that, Jeremiah." I bite the inside of my cheek, pulling my hands from his grip and scooting back.

"Oh, so that's how we're going to be? Come on, Jeremy-"

"You literally almost fucking killed me!"

"It was an accident!"

"Yeah, sure! It feels like you enjoy hurting me!"

"But I don't! I really don't! You're gonna keep blaming this shit on me, huh? I mean, I can hurt you if I need to, I will hurt you if I need to, and I'm not gonna hesitate! It starts when you don't keep your pretty little mouth shut, like now!"

"Hurt me, then! Hurt me however you please! You'd do it! I know you would!"

"I'd suggest you'd keep your mouth shut when you're in a room with a fucking GUN in it!"

"Shoot me! I'm not scared! I'm ready to end this!"

"Stop! Stop! Go! I'm not doing this!"

"Gladly!" I stand up and climb off his bed. He repeats this action, but I stay several feet away from him. "I don't want to stay!" I take a step back, then all of a sudden, he's shoving me again. It's getting to be too much. The yelling, arguing, shoving. Tears fill my eyes. "I don't want to stay." I repeat, voice breaking, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I don't bother wiping them.

"Oh, god," Michael runs up to me, cupping my face in his hands gently, wiping my tears. "I-I d-didn't want to make you cry-"

"Y-You made me cry." I say, my breath loud and shaking. "B-But I guess it's fine, right? I d-deserve it anyways-"

"You don't deserve this, stop. I'm sorry for yelling at you, I know how you get when people yell at you-"

"I-I get really bad when people yell at me-"

"Exactly, it's my fault, Jeremy, I yelled at you and I shouldn't have," Those words make me break down even more. I let out the sobs I've been holding in. "H-Hey, I-I'm sorry, baby, if you keep crying, I'm gonna cry,"

"M-Maybe then you'll actually feel something." I pull away from his grip, wiping my face with my sleeve.

"...You're serious? You're going to put up a fight? It's like you're asking for this, Jeremy, I-"

"I'm sorry, just kiss me, okay?"

"It's not going to fix anything-"

"I don't care right now. Just kiss me." I walk past him and sit back on his bed. He gets the idea and reluctantly sits next to me, taking my face back into his hands and pulling me in gently until our lips are touching. I see him close his eyes, so I close mine and begin kissing back immediately. We're kissing for a few moments before something takes over me, causing me to pull away to climb into his lap, practically straddling him. I forget all about the fight.

He's taken aback by the sudden change in the mood but he doesn't stop me or anything. He takes his glasses off to make the kissing easier, placing them on his bedside table. I adjust where I'm sitting to make this more comfortable, then I put my hands behind his head and gently pull him into another one, closing my eyes again. I feel him kissing back again. I accidentally moan slightly, which is really embarrassing!, but I'm so caught in the moment that I ignore it.

He wraps his arms around my neck, resting his arms on my shoulders and hands on my back, pulling me closer. I smile, taking a quick moment to catch a breath. I do just that, but when I come back to reconnect, Michael slides his tongue into my mouth. It catches me off guard, but I don't stop it. In all honesty, I do that same exact thing. After a few moments of our tongues doing something, I really don't know what, I pull away, a string of spit connecting us. I quickly wipe it away, smiling.

"C-Can we do this?"

"What do you mean?" I respond, confused.

"Um...C-Can we try having...you know?" It takes me a moment to understand, but once I do, I smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tease.

"God, Jeremy, I want to have sex," He rolls his eyes.

"Oh, you do? I didn't notice." I say sarcastically.

"So...can we try?" Michael asks after a few moments.

"Hmm...yeah. We can try." I smile. He looks at me in surprise. I pull him into a short and sweet kiss. When we pull apart, he kisses my cheek and trails the kisses down to my jawline. He begins sucking at my skin, making me groan quietly. He pulls away and flips us over to where he's on top of me now, immediately going back to kissing my jaw, smirking.

"M-Michael, you're going to leave another m-mark..." I moan quietly. He moves down my neck, kissing gently until he gets to my collarbone. He moves the collar of my shirt slightly before kissing and sucking the sensitive skin, making me moan. He does this for a few moments before pulling away and sitting up, a big smirk plastered across his face.

"I'm gonna love you so much that you won't be able to walk." He says innocently, making me turn deep red.


	5. four

**Jeremy's POV**

**_Three months, six days pre-death_ **

It never happened. I got too scared. It started when he was touching me. He asked and I let him, but the touching reminded me too much of Halloween.

_"I'm so sorry, Jeremy, I didn't mean to-" He pulls his hands away._

_"N-N-No, it's not your fault! Just..stop touching me like that."_

Then he was saying some things. I was fine with it until I wasn't. It was too much.

_"You're so beautiful, babe." He mumbles against my skin. I hate being called beautiful because I know that I'm not._

_"No, I'm not."_

_"You don't ever believe me. You are very beautiful, Jeremy." He looks up at me. "You're less cute when you don't believe that you're beautiful because I know that everything about you is very beautiful."_

You're less cute when you're talking. Everything about you is so terrible _. Those were the only thoughts running through my mind, they've been said to me and I believe those things._

_"S-Stop." I plead. He sighs and nods_.

Then it was the actual undressing part. I couldn't do that.

_"I-I hate it so much."_

_"I know you do, Jeremy, but I don't. I love everything about your appearance. I love your personality. I love you." I don't want to believe that he thinks I'm beautiful. He kissed my forehead. "I don't care about what your body looks like because I still love you. I will always think that your body is beautiful. I will always think you're beautiful." I refused to continue._

Now I'm back at home. I left after I told him I couldn't do it. I'm sitting at my desk, scrolling through some random news article on my computer. I do this a lot when I'm bored. Something about someone dying nearby. Not really important to me because I don't know the person.

"Died at Beth Israel as a result of injuries. Hm. Wish that was me." I laugh. That wasn't funny. I should stop. I click out of the tab and decide to listen to music. I need to clean anyways. I click on the link for my playlist and hit play, the music coming from my shitty computer speaker a few seconds later.

I sigh and stand up from my rolling chair, pushing it back in once I'm standing. I'm going to start with my floor. There's a small pile of clothes next to my bed, so I pick those up first and set them on my bed. My notebook is on the floor next to my nightstand, so I pick that up and put it on my desk. My floor is pretty much clean somehow.

I move onto organizing my things. I take the dirty clothes from my bed and move them to my dirty clothes basket. I look over at my nightstand. There's a bunch of loose change, a few cough drop wrappers (my allergies get bad this time of year), my glasses that I haven't worn since last year, a framed picture of Michael and I's first selfie (from eighth grade, when his moms gave him his first phone) and a book of poems I haven't read since this summer. I take the wrappers and put them in my mini trashcan, I take the change and put it in my change jar, and I reposition the picture. I decide to put my glasses on. I put the book with my notebook on the desk.

I flip through the book for a moment, humming along to the melody of the song that's playing. I sigh and put it down, picking my notebook up and reading what I wrote when I got home this morning for the fifth time. This notebook is special. Michael got it for me last year as a Christmas gift (even though I'm Jewish) and I never bothered with it until a month ago. I write in it daily, sometimes more than once a day. Its contents have gotten darker recently.

My dad knocks on the door and I immediately close the notebook, setting it down gently on the desk. I pause the current song. "You can come in."

The door opens. "You alright in here?"

"Yeah. Cleaning up."

"Just checking in on you, son. I made some dinner, come eat."

"Be there in a moment. Thanks for checking in, Dad." I'm so grateful for a parent who cares. He's tried harder for the past year. I'm so proud of the progress we've made.

"You're welcome, Jeremy. Come eat." He leaves, closing the door.

Dad knows about the suicidal thoughts and stuff. He knows I don't eat as much as I should, so he's been making me eat so that I'll be safe. He also knows that I'm dating Michael, that I'm bi, and he's been the best parent about it. The only thing he doesn't know is that Michael is the reason I was in the hospital a few weeks ago. He doesn't know that this whole thing is happening. He doesn't know what Michael has or what he's done.

-

"You're going back to school this week."

"I am? Why can't we keep doing the school thing online?" I ask, taking another bite of meatloaf. My dad is the best at cooking, in case you're wondering. I'm the baker, he's the chef, and we're both very good at it.

"I know it's difficult having to go in person, but I think you need to spend more time with your other friends. It doesn't have to be for long. I just feel that it's best if you leave the house instead of being here or at Michael's."

"Well, I guess I can follow through with that. As long as there's no repeats of last year." My dad still has a hard time understanding the SQUIP-cident. I've tried explaining it but he always has a lot of questions that I can't get the answer right for.

He nods. "Speaking of Michael, what's...that?"

"Huh?"

" _Ahem_."

I realize what he's talking about. "Gah! Uh, uh, nothing!" I try covering up the hickies with my shirt but it's not working. My dad chuckles slightly at my reaction. "We didn't do anything, Dad!"

"Alright, I believe you."

"Besides, we can't. I'm too traumatized for it." I take another bite of food sadly. "Let's stop talking about it. What's going to happen with school?"

"Oh, right. You're going to go back until winter break. If you decide that you want to stay in school, you'll stay. If you want to go back to online school, I'll allow it."

Will I even be _alive_ by winter break?

"Y-Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks again, Dad." I smile, distracting myself from those thoughts. The rest of dinner is just us eating silently. Once I'm done, I put my plate in the sink and head back upstairs.

-

**_Three months, five days pre-death_ **

"Jeremy, wake up. It's time for school."

"Huh?" I open my eyes sleepily, looking over at my door. Dad is standing in the doorway with the door half open.

"It's a bit earlier than usual but I want you to be able to prepare for your classes. I'm also taking you later than usual. We're leaving at nine. This gives you about four hours."

"Thanks, Dad." I yawn and sit up. Dad leaves the room and closes the door. I turn my lamp on and check the time on my phone. Five in the morning? Seriously? Might as well start.

I throw my legs over the side of my bed and take a moment to stretch. After I finish stretching out my arms, I walk over to my closet to pick out what I'm wearing. I don't have tons of options but it doesn't matter. I like my style. It's probably one of the only things I like about myself. I decide on a pair of black jeans, a light yellow sweatshirt and my worn-out black high-top Converse.

I open my door and walk down the hallway to the bathroom. I don't bother closing my bedroom door. I brush my teeth and a few other things before I decide that I look normal. I don't bother looking nice, I just look how I always do. I walk back to my room to change my clothes. That's when I close the door, heheh.

After changing my clothes, I grab some socks and put them on. I usually wait until right before I leave to put my shoes on.

I get a sudden realization. "Gotta pack my bag! I can't forget about that." I grab my backpacks out of the closet, searching for an option. I do process of elimination until I'm stuck between my old plain black Jansport one from middle school and my 'boyf' backpack.

I choose the black one.


	6. five

**Jeremy's POV**

"Do you need me to walk you in?"

"I got it figured out, Dad. Thank you, though." I begin opening the car door.

"Alright. See you after school, Jeremy."

"Bye, Dad." I smile half-heartedly, climbing out of the car and closing the door. I walk up to the doors of the large brick building and sigh. I look back at Dad, who's waiting on me to walk in. I nod at him, turning my gaze back to the doors. I open the door, holding one of my backpack straps in my hand. I walk into the slightly colder than outside building, looking at my feet the whole time as I walk into the office.

"H-Hi," is the first thing I say to the secretary. "I-I'm Jeremy, I'm just coming back today, and-"

"Jeremy Heere, I suppose?" I nod. "We have your schedule. You're late, by the way, but I'm aware that you already know that, and it's not going to be counted against you since this is your first day back. Give me a second and I'll get it right to you." She smiles. I nod. I'm really nervous for some reason.

A few moments later, she hands my schedule to me. "Here you go. Welcome to your senior year, by the way." She smiles.

"Th-Thank you, ma'am." I look down at the paper. I really need to know what time it is. Eh, I'll figure it out on my own.

"Of course,"

-

"Jeremy?"

"Huh?" I turn around in my seat. Rich!

"I didn't expect you to be here."

"Well, I-I am." I smile sheepishly.

"Good for us, I guess." Rich smiles back. "You've got something on your neck, by the way." His smile starts fading.

"Gah, everyone has to point those out." I sigh.

"It's literally hella noticeable because you're pale as a ghost. So is your cut."

"Can we not talk about it?"

"I guess but there's nothing else to talk about."

"Well...we can talk about last weekend."

"Oh yeah, when your boyfriend threatened me over text. That was a fun night." Rich says sarcastically.

"He..He threatened you?"

"Yeah. He did."

"I... I'm so sorry."

"Eh. I could care less. He's just being an ass." I nod in agreement.

"He's..special. Something else."

"He hasn't shown up after that. I guess his moms are letting him stay home. Making the right choice."

"Y-Yeah." I turn back around and pull my notebook out from my backpack. I open it up, reading some pages before flipping to a new one. I take my pencil and start scribbling little stars and planets in the corners of the paper. Time passes quickly and before I know it, homeroom is over.

-

I sit alone at lunch. I don't blame people for not wanting to sit with me. I'm that kid that who destroyed the play.

I'm writing in my notebook again when I watch out of the corner of my eye, someone sits next to me. "Hey." I close the notebook immediately.

I don't look at them. "Hi."

"You're not eating."

"I-I'm not hungry."

"Jeremy..."

"What? I'm not hungry." I decide to look over at them. I see Rich staring back at me.

"You need to eat, Jeremy. Here, take some of mine." He hands me a brown lunch bag.

"N-No, you need it."

"You need it more than I do. I eat regularly. You don't. Take it, okay? I don't want to have you pass out or something because you refuse to eat."

"O-Okay." I take the bag and look inside. There's an apple, a sandwich and a package of goldfish crackers.

"I know it's not much but it's all that I had left after I ate."

"N-No, it's perfect. Th-Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, you're going to eat. You're not leaving until you do."

I nod and pull the sandwich out of the bag. It's wrapped up in plastic wrap. I gently undo the plastic wrap as to not squish the sandwich. Once I get it out, I take a bite. It's kind of weird having him watch me eat. This sandwich is really good though. I'm glad it's not peanut butter, I'm allergic. I wouldn't want to have an allergic reaction.

A few moments later, I finish the sandwich, choosing the goldfish next. "Talk to me. Don't sit there and watch me eat. You can talk to me." I say and pop a cracker into my mouth, smiling.

"There's nothing to talk about. Besides, I like the quiet. Maybe I like watching you eat."

"That's weird." I tease.

"Yeah, yeah." Rich rolls his eyes but he's smiling too.

"Want one?" I ask, referring to the goldfish.

"Only if you feed it to me."

"..Uhm...What?" I turn red.

"I'll have one if you feed it to me. That's what I said." He's turning slightly red too.

"Uh..well, alright." I laugh nervously, holding a goldfish in my hand, moving it to in between my fingers. Rich looks at me questionably. "Uh, open up? I don't know." I laugh again. He smiles and opens his mouth, so I pop the cracker in his mouth. He closes his mouth as soon as it manages to get inside.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it. Hah, gay." He smirks.

"You're literally bi." I smile.

"You're also bi, and what about it?" He lightly shoves me teasingly. It doesn't feel like when Michael pushes me. It feels like a joke, how it should feel. I laugh. "It feels so good to hear your laugh and see you smile, Jere. You haven't done that in a while."

"I, uh, thanks." That's the only reply I can think of.

-

"I didn't know you ride the bus."

"I didn't know that you ride the bus either. I guess we're both clueless." Rich laughs.

"So, wanna sit next to me?"

"Well, duh. Scoot your tiny ass over."

"Tiny? I think only one of us is tiny." I tease, scooting over anyways. He sits next to me.

"Make another comment about my height, you're dead."

"Fine, fine."

"Also, yes, tiny, because you're skinny as hell." He smirks. I laugh gently. A few moments later, I catch myself staring at him and I look away. "Are you crushing on me, tall-ass?"

"What? I was only looking at you for a second-"

"Shit, right. Sorry, Jere, I don't know why I even asked-"

"N-N-No, it's fine." I smile slightly. "Really fine, I promise." He smiles back.

"This is going to sound weird...but...can I hold your hand?"

"Wha...?"

"No, nevermind, forget I asked, I'm sor--" Rich looks away from me, blushing and speaking fast.

"Wait, no, you can. I'm fine with it. You can hold my hand." I say, trying to reassure him. I don't know what's making me agree to this. He only nods slightly, taking my sleeve-covered hand in his. It takes him a moment to figure it out, so I help by intertwining my fingers in his. We keep our hands in between us in the middle of the seat. We don't speak for the rest of the bus ride.

-

When I get home, I throw my backpack down on the floor and flop down onto my bed. I'm so happy and I don't know why. I look over at my nightstand at the framed picture, reaching over and holding it in front of myself. I inspect the photo, tracing the frame with my fingers lightly.

"His smile would be nice to see. A real smile. Not some of that craziness bullshit he tries to pull." I sigh, setting the picture back down. "Why can't he just talk to me? Like a normal person? It wouldn't be so hard if-" My thinking out loud is cut off by the doorbell ringing.

I frown before deciding to go see who it is. I stand up from my bed and begin the journey to the front door. Down the hallway, down the stairs, through the dining room, living room and then I'm there. I open the door slightly so I can see who it is.

"O-Oh, hey, Michael!" I open the door all the way. "What's... up..?"

"Hey, Jere. I was wondering if it was okay if I come over but you never responded to my texts, which was weird, so I decided to come over anyways. I have something for you."

"Uh, yeah. Come in." I move out of the way so he can walk inside.

"Okay, this is it. I saw this and thought of you, and you're probably going to hate me for it, but I bought it for you so you're keeping it." My impatience is building up. Can he stop with surprises? Surprises could be the death of me at this point (or the death of me could me a surprise, but at this point I'm anticipating it). Out of nowhere, he hands me a light blue stuffed animal. I then realize.

"Oh my God! No! Not a dolphin, Michael!" I already feel myself turning red.

"I thought of your furriness when seeing it."

"Nooo! Michael! Y-You're the only one that knows about this, right?!"

"Well, yeah. You like it though, right?"

I inspect the plushie. It's actually really cute. I take it in my arms and cuddle it slightly. "Y-Yeah..."

"Then that's all that matters." He smiles. It's not a real smile! It's not his real smile. I only nod, holding the dolphin tightly in my arms. In all honesty, I really like it. It's making me feel safe.

"..Jere? Why are things so..awkward between us?"

Maybe it's the fact the he almost killed me, or that he slapped me, or that he threatened my only other friend, or that he's threatened to shoot me, or that he's threatened to hurt me, or that he continuously yells at me, or that we almost had sex but I got too scared, or that he keeps touching me and I can't take it, or--

"I don't know." is all that I respond with.

"Do you wanna...break up with me?"

"... What? Why would I want to do that?" I say quietly. It's more of a question for myself. Why haven't I done it yet?

"I-I dunno. I'm just wondering out loud here. I wouldn't be shocked if you wanted to."

"I don't." I squeeze the dolphin tighter than earlier.

"You're going to rip that if you hold it so tight. I'm not going to hurt you, baby, I promise-"

"I never said you would." My tone goes from soft and quiet to bitter. All I can picture is the moment when I die. I don't know how or where. I just know that Michael will be involved in some way.

"Right." He sighs. "Since you don't need me here, I'm going to go-"

"Can you stay for a while longer?" I want to see what he does. I'm trying my best to stray away from being upset. He hates when I'm upset.

But do I really care how he feels at this point?


	7. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wE’RE ONE OF A KIND NO CATEGORY—  
> sorry I saw the word “six” and I had to

**Michael's POV**

"Yeah, okay. I'll stay." I sigh of relief.

"Okay."

Why's he holding it so tightly? Jeremy doesn't feel safe around me? I've scared him so much, I don't think he trusts me anymore.

"...Can we cuddle? Or am I too...nevermind." I was going to start on this huge rant about how I'm too evil for it but I decide not to.

"Y-Yeah, we can do that."

-

One hour and a change of scenery later, Jeremy's on top of me in the most non-sexual way possible, his head resting on my chest. I think he fell asleep.

I bend over and cover us up with his blanket, mainly him though. I begin to move so I can leave.

"Noo." Jeremy whines.

"I have to go home eventually, 'Miah."

"Not now.... I'm sleeping."

"And that's why I'm leaving, so you'll get a nice rest."

"Micha.." He groans and sits up, unconsciously straddling me. "Please stay."

"What will I gain from it?" I smirk and sit up as much as possible.

"I don't know. I'll gain that nice rest you're talking about. You'll gain...I don't know. I just want you to stay." He moves one of his legs to where his body is one only one side of me. He lies down next to me, moving his head to rest my shoulder. "Please?" He begs.

"...Fine. For a little bit longer."

"Thank you." He kisses my cheek and closes his eyes. Soon enough, I recognize the sleeping sound of his breathing. I smile slightly to myself.

I look over at him sleeping on my shoulder. His freckles, tons and tons of specks dusted across his face. They're one of my favorite things about him. I push some hair out of his face. Now I can admire him some more. I smile and eventually fall asleep.

-

**_Three months, four days pre-death_ **

I wake up and he isn't here. I'm not wearing my glasses. I find them next to a a sticky note on the nightstand. I put them on and read the note.

_I forgot to tell you. I go to school now. See you when I get off the bus._

"Not even a goodbye or anything? I guess 'see you when I get off the bus' is a goodbye, but..." I sigh.

-

**Jeremy's POV**

"W-Wait, Rich, what's wrong?"

"Fuckin' dads. Not a big deal. I've gotten used to it."

"Are we meeting behind the school for any particular reason...?" The whole thing sounds suspicious.

"Oh, I'm meeting you here to talk to you."

"Obviously." I chuckle slightly.

"Yeah, so..." He sighs. "I really like you."

"Yes."

"Yeah."

"...So?" I laugh gently.

"...C-Can I just kiss you? Just to see how it'll feel? I-I'll say no homo after I do it, just...can I?"

"Rich, I-"

"I know, you're with Michael. That's why I want to do it..because I'll never get to know what it feels like."

"I'm not even a good kisser-" I try to excuse myself. I don't know what to do! I don't want to not kiss him...it won't feel right. I don't want Michael finding out.

"Only one way to find out." He puts his hands on my shoulders, standing on his toes. He's almost eye level with me.

"..Uh..Okay," I laugh gently, shortly being cut off with his lips against mine. I see him closing his eyes, so I close mine too and kiss back. I guess this startles him at first.

I don't feel anything. There's not any spark. Maybe it's the fact that I'm worried about what'll happen if Michael finds out. I start blocking the thought away and move my hands from my sides to the sides of his face, pulling him in a bit closer.

Now I feel something. I want to keep kissing him. I smile into the kiss then he pulls away.

"I...I...No homo. Y-You're a really good kisser, Jere."

"N-No homo but so are you." I giggle.

"Uh... Lunch is over. Bye, Jeremy." Before I get the chance to respond, he's running off.

He just kissed me. And I liked it. I didn't like it. I enjoyed it. I _loved_ it.

"I-I'm so bad! H-He's gonna find out! I'm such a dumbass!" I feel tears sting my eyes. I think it's better if I don't cry outside.

-

During the middle of class, I'm able to sneak to the bathroom. I'm sitting next to a stall, trying not to cry, holding my dolphin plushie. Not holding. Squeezing. I'm doing fine until I hear the bathroom door open. I'm sitting right where we can see each other. It's this junior and his buddy.

_Shit._

"Is that a stuffed animal?"

"I..uh..yeah. I-Is there an issue with it? I-It's p-pretty r-relaxing-"

"S-S-Sh-Shut up!" The taller of the two mocks my stammer. I nod, squeezing it tightly, looking down, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Look at him." The shorter one smirks. "He's curled up in a ball. Where's your boyfriend?"

"B-Boyfriend?!" I look back up. I wasn't really open with my relationship, so if they knew...

"You probably don't have one. The whole soft boy routine is probably your only way to get the boys, huh? Explains the hickies on your neck. You're probably a huge slut underneath that pink." He rolls his eyes.

"I-I...Wh...at?" My voice breaks. I've never been called a slut before. It could never be true, I'd never have sex after what happened. I ignore that he pointed my hickies out. I didn't care.

"You're not that innocent. Stop trying to act like it, slut."

"I-I'm not a slut." I mumble.

"What was that?" The taller one lunges at me as a way to scare me. My eyes go wide. Tears prick my eyes, making my face go red and my crying face very visible.

"Aw! Poor Jere-Bear's gonna CRY!" The shorter one snickers. I nod and tears fall down my face. They begin laughing and the door opens.

"Goddamn it, not again. Save it for the--Jeremy?"

"R-Rich--I mean--"

"What, came to protect your boyfriend?" The taller guy smirks.

"He's not my boyfriend. I'm gonna give you a few seconds before I kick your asses. If I'm not able to, I'll get Dillinger on your case." Rich completely ignores me. The part about Jake makes them scramble out of the bathroom, laughing. As soon as that door closes...

"Jeremy, are you alright? Did they hurt you?" Rich runs over to me and sits in front of me.

"N-No, I'm fine. They didn't hurt me." I wipe my tears with my sleeve.

"They were making fun of you, weren't they? God, I'm gonna beat their asses!" He sits up, looking over at the door before turning back to me, wiping some tears from my chin.

"No! It's fine! They didn't say much."

"What did they say?"

"... Nothing."

"You're a shit liar, Jeremy."

"..They called me a slut...I'm not a.." I sigh. "Right?"

"Jeremy, you're not a slut!"

"I-I don't know, I mean--"

"Jeremy! You sound absolutely stupid right now! You're not a slut."

"O-Okay."

"Come on, get up off your ass and back in that classroom." Rich stands up and reaches a hand out for me to grab onto. I immediately take his in mine and he pulls my up to my feet. We stand there for a few seconds, the dolphin in my arm and my opposite hand in his. He lets go.

"Th-Thanks, Rich." I wipe the remaining tears from my eyes and pick up my backpack, putting the dolphin back inside. I didn't want to see it after what they said. I zip up the pocket and put the backpack back on. "I-I don't wanna come back."

"I'm not forcing you to stay, Jeremy."

"W-Wha...?" I sigh. "I-I'm going back to class." I walk away.

That was awkward.


	8. seven

**Jeremy's POV**

"I'm gonna kiss you, okay?" Michael takes his glasses off. It's a look I'm getting used to. I don't know how to feel about it, especially since he's been wearing glasses since we were eight.

"Yeah." I say, half aware of what I'm doing. I'm thinking about what happened today. A lot happened today.

"Jeremy."

"Y-Yes?" I focus my attention to him.

"You paying attention?" Michael laughs softly. I nod. "...Do you want me to wait on kissing you?"

"N-No, I'm just lost in my thoughts." I smile sheepishly. He's standing there with a half smile. I stammer for a few seconds before deciding that I'll just kiss him. I lean in, a bit quickly, and gently kiss him, eyes half shut. I fully close my eyes when I feel him kissing back. He puts his hands on my shoulders.

This is exactly what Rich did. I start remembering what happened again. If Michael keeps kissing me, it's a possibility I'll end up with more hickies. I don't want that. I don't want to be called that again.

I pull away upon realizing this, pushing him slightly so his hands fall off of my shoulders. He looks confused and...

...hurt.

"I-I don't know what happened, I-I'm sorry!" I try and explain without telling the truth.

"Did something happen? Was it the touching? I'm sorry, Jeremy-"

"N-No, not the touching, I don't know what happened-!" I start panicking.

"Jeremy-" He stops to put his glasses back on. "Jeremy, it's going to be okay-"

"I did something bad!" I blurt out, slapping my hands over my mouth when I say it. I turn away from him so I don't have to look at him.

"..Jeremy?"

"No!"

"Jeremy, what happened at school today?"

"N-Nothing! S-School's boring." I feel tears sting my eyes.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I won't be able to help."

"If I tell you, you'll hurt people. That's the way it'll end." Tears fall down my cheeks and I hold back sobs. I'm not meaning to say any of these things, it's all spilling out at once. I wipe them with my sleeves, my arms falling to my sides.

"...It's that bad?"

"Well, maybe not that bad-"

"No, not that. You think that I'd hurt someone just because that's what you think my only solution to these things are? Jeremy, I don't hurt people on purpose."

Says the one who slapped me.

"Th-That's not what I said!" I fidget with my sleeves.

"Listen, Jeremy, I don't know what's going on at school. I don't know what's happening with your life. What I do know is that you don't trust me, Jeremy, and I-"

"It's not that I don't trust you, Michael!" I turn back around, facing him.

"Then what is it, Jeremy?"

"I..I..I kissed someone! And then these juniors called me a-a...I don't want to talk about it!" I say in between sobs. I stop sobbing and crying after I realize. I go completely quiet, holding my breath.

"Y-You think I'm going to be mad because of that..?"

"Y-Yeah."

"What'd they call you, Jere...?" I don't respond. "What'd they call you?! I-I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell-"

"It's fine," The yelling is the least of my concerns. What if he hurts them? What if he hurts Rich..? "I don't care that you yell at me. I deserve it."

"Jeremy, just tell me what they said!"

"..Th-They made fun of the stuffed animal, th-then they noticed the marks...then they called me a...a...they called me a slut."

"...Jeremy, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have made those, now everyone notices them. I'm so sorry-"

"It's not your fault." I try to covince the both of us.

"...Wait. Y-You kissed someone?"

"I...I didn't mean to-"

"You accidentally kissed this person?"

"..No. He kissed me-"

"He?"

"Yes, Michael, he! Let me finish!" I shout at him. I immediately feel bad after, more tears gathering in my eyes. I cover my face up with my hands. "He kissed me first."

"...Did you like it?"

"W-What kind of question is that, Michael?"

"The kind where you answer it without giving me attitude, Jere-Bear."

"..No." I lie. "I didn't."

"That's the only thing that matters. Nobody gets hurt, Jeremy. If you trusted me enough, you'd understand." He moves my hands from my face and keeps them in his. I only nod, sniffling and I feel my tears get cold on my skin.

"We're not going to keep arguing, okay? As long as you don't do it again, I forgive you. I love you, Jeremy, and as much as it doesn't seem like it, I really do." He moves one of his hands from mine and wipes the tears from my cheeks. I smile. I love when he does that.

"I-I love you too."

-

**_Three months, three days pre-death_ **

"It is Wednesday my dudes?"

"I write my vine references down...don't judge, Rich." I close my notebook and look at him.

"I'm not. It is actually Wednesday, anyways. It's been such a long week, I'm just ready to be able to relax, you know?"

"Yeah, I really do know." I chuckle.

"I notice the things you write in that thing...you wanna talk?"

"N-No. Everything's fine. Just putting my thoughts somewhere else so I can live."

"Based on what you write, you don't wanna...live."

"It's not that--"

"Are you planning a suicide?"

"W-What?"

"January Twlevth? That's such a specific day, it can't be for any good reason."

"I'm not planning a suicide, Rich."

"Just checking, you know? I'm worried."

"Worried about what? I'm not going to kill myself." I'm trying to convince the both of us.

"...Okay." Rich sighs.

-

"Come here! Give me cuddles!" Michael whines from my bed.

"Nooo!" I smirk. I'm at my desk reading another article. More death, but I really don't mind. My playlist is quietly playing the background.

"Jeremyyyyy! Please?!"

"Noooo!" I tease. I look back at him and he's making a pouty face, sitting up. "Fiiine." I stand up and close out of the tab, then flop down on my bed next to him.

"Thank you." He smiles and lies down. I curl up next to him and he wraps his arms around my waist, putting his head between my shoulder and head, spooning (?) me. He kisses my neck gently.

"Stooop." I laugh.

"Why?" He fake pouts again.

"Because I asked," I smile.

"But what if I don't want to stop kissing you?" I feel him smirking.

"Th-Then I guess you can. I just don't like being teased,"

"Teased? God, you're so horny." He laughs quietly.

"That's not what I-" I turn red. "That's not what I mean."

He chuckles. "Okay, Jeremy."

"My playlist is too pure for your sexual behavior, Micha, I'm afraid you're going to have to stop." I joke.

"Then maybe we should change the music," He takes his glasses off, putting them on my nightstand.

"Woah, what?" I flip around to where I'm looking at him. "Did you just-"

"Shh. I'm going to kiss you now, alright?"

"Yeah, it's alright, why wouldn't-?" I'm cut off with him kissing me softly get somehow with force, hands on the sides of my face. I began kissing back, hands moving to the same place on his face, smiling.

One thing led to another and now we're making out, he's sitting, and I'm sitting on top of him. Again. This time shows no sign of slowing down. I pull away and start trailing down his neck. Payback.

"J-Jeremy, no-" I smirk and kiss around a bit before I find a spot that makes him squirm around a lot. I keep on kissing they one spot until I get brave and start sucking gently. He lets out a low groan which means I'm doing something right. I move around and leave a few more before sitting up, smirking.

"Payback." That's all I say.

"Sometimes you make me so mad, Jeremiah, then I see your totally kissable face and everything gets better." Michael smirks and I feel myself turn red. He pulls me into another kiss.

-

We're barely wearing anything. It's only been ten minutes since I've last updated you. I'm still wearing socks, so it's fine! I'm kidding. I'm not wearing only socks. I'm just not wearing a shirt...or pants. Neither is Michael, though.

Michael's currently attacking me with kisses. I'm so caught in the moment to pay attention to the fact that I'm half naked and that he's touching me and I'm letting it happen. Michael kisses me again and I somehow turn it into something really passionate. I run my fingers through his hair, barely taking a breath in between every kiss.

Next thing I know, he slips three fingers underneath the waistband of, ahem, my underwear. This is what causes me to pull away. This is what causes me to realize all of this has been happening.

"Stop!" I move off of him. His hand is no longer there but I can't get rid of the feeling of him touching me.

"J-Jere?"

"No! Stop! I can't do this!" I stand up and walk (more like I run) across the room and grab my shirt from the floor, immediately slipping it on. I feel more safe, more comfortable, more covered up, especially since this shirt goes past my ass. That's why it's my favorite.

"I-I'm so sorry-"

"No, Michael, I'm sorry--" I feel hot tears fall down my face. It took that much to make me cry? Damn. "I-I don't know what happened."

"It's fine, you're not ready. We'll wait."

"Th-Thank you!" I burst into happy sobs. I'm glad he's understanding it better. I run back over to my bed and sit next to him, curling up, placing my head on his shoulder. I wipe my tears as more spill out.

"Shh, Jeremy, you're safe now. You're safe with me." He wraps his arms around me. I decide to believe his words at the moment. "Wait, glasses..?" I nod and reach over, barely grabbing them and handing them to Michael. He puts his glasses back on and wraps his arms around me again. I cover us up with my blanket, still crying, but tears coming at a slower rate. I eventually fall asleep in his arms.


	9. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the writing starts improving (and thank salazar for that)

**Jeremy's POV**

_**Three months, two days pre-death** _

No matter how hot this water is, I can still feel his touches. It's like they're imprinted into my skin. They aren't necessarily bad touches, but I would greatly appreciate if I were able to stop feeling them.

"G-God, it's fucking hot in here." I complain. It's my fault though, the water is literally on the hottest setting. I sigh and decide to turn the water off.

-

I'm so stupid. I'm so dumb for this. I should have never started this again. I should have gone to bed, but now it's eleven at night and I'm sitting in the kitchen floor while Dad is on the night shift.

Can I mention that there's blood almost everywhere?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurts!" I inhale deeply, wincing through the pain. "I-I need to stop."

I can't stop.

I move the now-warm metal from another open cut and onto my other arm. I've been taking turns on each arm so they're about matching, five cuts on my left and four on my right. The sharp blade burns into my skin as I run it in enough to leave a fairly deep enough cut. I move it back to do another one on my left when the house phone starts ringing.

I immediately throw down the knife and struggle to get up as I rush over to the phone. I gently and slowly pick it up and answer.

"H-Hello?"

"You weren't answering your phone so I called this one. Are you doing alright?" Michael speaks from the other line.

"...Yeah, I'm fine."

"You busy?"

"No, I'm not. I'm about to go to bed." I lie.

"Then why are you downstairs?"

"...I was going to get a drink of water."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah." I move my wrist slightly and a huge stinging moves throughout my arm. I wince again, trying to avoid getting the dripping blood anywhere else.

"Are you hurt?"

"W-Why would you think that?"

"You just winced."

"Oh, I stubbed my toe. Sorry." I try to laugh it off.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"Are you doing everything you need to? Have you done your homework? Have you taken your meds or are you still out? You should probably get those refilled. Got everything taken care of?"

"I did my homework, still no meds and everything is fine. I promise."

"Hmm... well, alright. I'm going to hang up now, okay?"

"Okay."

"Night, Jere."

"Night." I sigh as he hangs up. That was close.

Now I have all this blood to clean up.

-

**_Three months, one day pre-death_ **

I slip on my shirt gently as to not hurt the wrapped-up wounds on my arms. It hurts to move my wrists. It was a dumb mistake I regret making. I sigh, remembering every little detail of it.

I loved waking up to his texts though.

-

**Michael**

Michael: hi beautiful

Michael: idk if i woke up at the right time but i wanted to remind you that i love you and that everything's okay now

Michael: mahal kita, my boy ♡

-

I don't know very much Tagalog, but since Michael's tried to teach me before, I know what that means. It means so much more in another language. It feels more real in a different language.

I don't know what I have coming.

-

"Hey, tall-ass."

"Um, hey." I chuckle. "You're in a better mood."

"And you aren't?"

"Well, not really. I'm just... It's one of those days. You know, you have your regrets sometimes, and today's one of those days where they really get to me."

"Regrets?"

"It's not important. I'm fine now."

"Well, what happened?"

"... Nothing happened."

"Liar. Was it him? I swear, I'll kill him if he lands a hand on you-"

"No, i-it wasn't him, it was me. I did something dumb but now I'm fine."

"What did you do?" I don't respond. "Jeremy. What did you do?"

"I-I don't... Nothing." The memories from last night come back. Blood. Cuts. It's too much running through my mind.

"Let me see."

"What?"

"Let me see your fucking arms, you dingus."

I go completely still. "No."

"You did the fucking thing." He knows.

"I tried to kill myself, yeah." I confirm.

"You tried to kill yourself?"

"No." I lie. He really knows now. He knows that it was more than self-harm. I can't keep my mouth shut.

"I can't fucking believe this."

"Don't believe it. I'm fine now, see? I'm fine. I'm safe. I'm fine."

"You tried to kill yourself, Jeremy. You aren't fine. You...You need help. I need to help you, I'm going to get you help, I-"

"I don't need help, what I need right now is some space, okay? I'm fine. It may not seem like it but I'm fine."

"Jeremy-"

"Rich. Trust me on this. For once, trust me."

-

**_Three months pre-death_ **

I don't know what made me agree to this.

I'm as calm as I can be in a situation like this. Of course, my overthinking ass is thinking about every bad thing that could happen right here. So I'm not very calm.

The only thing that snaps me out of my thinking is Michael's hand on my shoulder.

"Jeremy... Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"I don't know what to do. I've never done this before."

"Don't ask me. Well, I guess in the past I would have known, but... Not now."

"And you're absolutely sure that you're mentally stable enough to do this?"

"I've gotten this far."

"We got this far last time and then you freaked. Are you sure you're alright to do it?"

"Yes." I grab the blanket that's covering my legs and whatever. It's cold in here but not where it's unbearable. "I'm promising as much as I can."

"Jeremy..."

"I know."

"I don't know if you do."

"It was an impulse decision, I-I wasn't sure what I was doing, I wasn't-"

"Hey, hey, calm down-"

"I'm just so sorry-"

"Jeremy."

I stop. "What?"

"Let's focus on one thing at a time. Don't worry about it right now. We're going to focus on us right now." He takes my hands into his, and I try not to look down. It's not a sight I want to see, the bandages and whatnot wrapped around my wrists.

"Okay." I respond.

"So, we're doing this."

"Yeah."

"Alright...let's do it."

Lights off.


	10. nine

**Jeremy's POV**

**_Two months, three weeks, six days pre-death (October 13th, 2019 if I'm doing my math correctly) (which I'm probably not)_ **

It was so much different than expected. It wasn't like I'd thought it'd be. It wasn't something to look forward to.

But it happened, so...

Congrats to me?

"I love saying your name. It's so fun to say. Jeremy. It's so fun. Jerry-me? No. Jeremy."

"It's a boring name for a boring person."

"You're not boring, shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up." I feel the need to pull my sleeves down a bit more, so I do.

Michael frowns. "Okay."

I don't feel happy anymore. I'm just angry for no reason. I'm here, angry for no reason, making people angry for no reason.

"Jeremy..."

"What?" I say bitterly.

"...Um...Nevermind."

"No, just say it. Just say what you were going to say."

"...You're confusing."

"You're one to talk." I roll my eyes.

"Um, excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"What is your deal?"

"Don't act like you did nothing to me. Don't act all innocent like you do."

"So, you decide that it's time to talk about this now?"

"I didn't say we were going to talk about it." It brings back too many memories, anyways.

"Jeremy, what I did wasn't me. I could never hurt you like that. That wasn't me."

"Then who was it? 'Cause it's terrifying as hell."

"I wouldn't be able to hurt you like that, Jeremy! I-I guess I did, but that wasn't me! I don't know what made me think that it was okay, because it wasn't, and I won't be able to do that again!"

"How convincing--"

"Can we have one happy moment, for once?! Please?! I've tried so hard to keep myself from doing shit to you! I've tried to keep us happy! The only one who's hurting you now is yourself, and you need to stop!"

"I know what the hell I'm doing!"

"You really don't, Jeremy! You really fucking don't! You're a fucking liar! That's all you've been doing this whole time!"

"Like you don't hide shit from me!"

"I don't! I told you everything, Jeremy! I told you every single fucking thing! I don't fucking lie to you constantly! I'm trying my best, but all you're doing is making me feel worthless! If you can't trust me, go to someone who you can trust! Oh, wait, you can't! Because he's dead!"

My eyes widen. "What?"

"The only thing I'm hiding from you! It's the only thing I'm hiding from you! He's fucking dead! I fucking killed someone! As of two days ago, he's fucking dead, Jeremy!"

"...I-I don't understand..." I try to process it.

"I killed your little boyfriend because he was being a huge pain in my ass! If I can't have you for myself, then what's the point of being with you?!"

_Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, he killed Rich._

I go to say the words, but he stops me.

"And don't even think about breaking up with me. Who are you going to go to? Rich? You can't. He's dead, Jeremiah. He's fucking dead, because of me."

"Did you have anything to do with it...?"

"No! I didn't. He won't tell me shit."

"He won't tell us anything, either. He doesn't sit with us. He doesn't talk to us. He's been hanging out with Rich...I think he feels like we don't care about him."

"He thinks that he's all by himself in this world. He's being an overdramatic whore right now. Once he gets back on his meds, he should be fine."

"Meds?"

"Antidepressants. Anxiety meds. He's been out for about two months."

"Yeah...he should probably get those refilled... I'm going to let you go, okay? I have some things to do."

"Alright."

"Oh...by the way, send me Mr. Heere's number...please?"

"Yep. I can do that."

-

"Oh, my...he's gotten so tall."

"Yep. I'm tall." I sigh.

I hate family reunions. This isn't a family reunion, but it feels like it. We're at my aunt's house because my grandmother (on Momma's side) is here, and my moms wanted to visit.

"He's got an attitude, too." Nonna (my grandmother) frowns.

"Yep. That's me." I respond, crossing my arms. You can tell that I really hate my family.

"Ignore him. He's been acting like this for a while now." Momma whispers, but I can hear her clearly.

"I'm going to entertain myself, alright? Alright. Sounds good." I sigh and walk into the living room, to discover that some of my cousins are in here.

There's Lisa, who's four, and she's coloring in a PAW Patrol coloring book. Not surprised. Jessica (Jess, if you will), who's eleven, is watching Lisa color. Then there's Nonnie (which I guess she goes by her real name now, which is Andrea), who's sixteen. She's...on her phone. Again, not surprised. The three are sisters, and their mom is my Aunt Rose.

"Hey." I say, knowing that they're not paying attention to me. I sit down on the couch next to Andrea, and I kind of stare at her to see if she'll get annoyed.

"What do you want, Mikey?"

The nickname makes me gag. "Don't call me that. I grew out of that nickname."

"Sorry, Michael." She rolls her eyes.

"Don't be a bitch." I say through my teeth, hoping that the younger ones are distracted enough not to hear.

"Don't tell me what to do. You haven't seen me in a year."

"And you haven't seen me in a year. Case dismissed." I look ahead at the TV. PAW Patrol. Why am I not surprised?

"...God, you look like a mess." Andrea laughs. "Is that a hickey? Damn, boy, you've really grown up. I guess any guy you can sleep with is very lucky."

"A...what?" I remember the other night. Oh my God. When did he leave a--? "No, no, you've got it all wrong."

"That's a hickey."

"I don't sleep with guys." It's one guy. It was one guy. And that one guy is my boyfriend, so...

"Yeah, you're the straightest crayon in the box, aren't ya?"

"That's not how the metaphor goes."

"The box is in a hot closet. The crayons are melting. You're gay and it's obvious."

"...How did you know?"

"Just look at you, Michael. You literally scream, 'I'm a homosexual'. Not that I'm judging or anything. Whatever happened to that boyfriend of yours? You used to bring him all the time."

"Boyfriend? He's not my...oh..well..." I laugh. "He is my boyfriend, but he wasn't back then."

"Figures. What happened to him?"

"Nothing happened to him. He's alive. For now." I mumble the last part.

"For now?" Shit, she heard.

"Yeah, for now." I sigh. "He's really fucking sad and shit. I'm worried for him. We've argued a lot recently, and...I just don't know anymore."

"So...he's like... suicidal?"

"He's more than suicidal."

"...Maybe you should get him the help he needs."

"He won't take it. I'm just trying my hardest."

And so we acted like a family. A normal family, having a normal conversation about our lives. Well, not exactly normal.

I kept everything bad away from her. I don't need her finding out about any of the shit that's happened.

But I did tell her that we had sex. And she made me say every detail. So I did. And she enjoyed every second of it...which is weird. But I did it.

And we acted like cousins.

But, really, it's just a sixteen-year-old who's normal and a seventeen-year-old who's a murderer, trying to get along.


	11. ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this a short chapter and maybe filler and it’s kind of on crack, I apologize

**October 15th, 2019**

**Michael's POV**

"You're really fucking dumb." I sigh.

"...Why do you think that?" Brooke responds.

"You still hang out with me, even when everyone else hates me."

"I don't let what they think influence my decisions."

"You should."

"In honesty, they keep saying these things about you, but I don't listen to that. I know you're not a bad person, and I know that the real you wouldn't do what they say you do."

"...What things...?"

"Concerns for Jeremy's safety. He didn't even come to school today, but I don't think you're the reason why. Also, it's very clear that he doesn't want to be involved with us anymore. He wouldn't tell us."

"Brooke..." I sigh. "I just wanted to be what's best for him... but I fucked it all up."

"Um...I don't understand..."

"I did do some things. I've said things. I scared him into staying with me and I just...he doesn't deserve this."

"...So...they weren't lying."

"No. They weren't. The only liar here is me."

"You're hurting him?"

"Not physically. I'm being honest. It's been a while since I've hurt him physically. I just get really upset and angry and..." I look back at Brooke. "...Brooke?"

"I can't believe that...you did that to him."

"It wasn't the real me, Brooke, I didn't know what I was doing."

"I don't know how to react to this."

"I'm fucking crazy, Brooke, but I know that the real me wouldn't hurt him. Maybe that's the reason why he's been getting hurt, because I'm fucking crazy. I'm probably some sort of psychopath. Maybe a sociopath. A combination of both. But please understand that I would never do that to him. Not in my own conciousness. It only happens when I get so pissed at him, I just explode, I--"

"Michael..." Brooke sighs. "I'm not getting involved in this."

And she said that, then she left.

-

**October 16th, 2019**

**-**  
**Jeremy**

Michael: hey are you alright?  
Michael: i know this isn't enough but i'm so sorry  
Michael: ...15 days until halloween. wanna go trick-or-treating?  
Michael: jeremy?

-

**October 17th, 2019**

"I'm going out." I simply state, grabbing my car keys off the counter. I don't know where I'm going, but it's whatever.

"No, you're not." I hear Mom say. I turn back around, keys in my hand, other hand on the doorknob. Moms standing, waiting for an explanation for something.

"...Why?" I ask.

"You're not leaving this house until you talk to us."

A mixture of panic and anger starts rising. "About...?"

"Sit down."

I want to object, but there's so much they could say, so I just do as she asks. "O-Okay...what's this about?"

"You know how you don't do your own laundry?" Momma asks. I nod.

"Of course I know, but what does this--"

"And how we do it for you?" I nod again. "Explain why we found blood all over your clothes."

My eyes widen. I don't know what to say. I thought I threw those out. "Uh..." My mind is racing with tons of excuses. Luckily, I'm a good liar. One in particular sticks out to me.

"Get to explaining."

"...I have a blood fetish." I answer. False information. Very false information. But it's weird enough to scare my moms off. "I-I didn't want you to find out like this, I really didn't want you to find out, actually--"

"That's enough." Mom says, disgust clear in her expression. I almost smirk.

"Well, who's blood is this?" Momma asks.

My eyes widen again. Shit. _Shit_. "Uh...it's hard to tell. I'm gonna be honest, I've put that fetish to use with a few different people." False information.

"What the actual fuck, Michael?" Momma never swears. It's over for me.

"I-I just really love the taste of blood. I think it's hot, someone being covered in...all...that...blood." It's starting to turn me on. Shit, maybe I do have a blood fetish.

"What have we raised?" Mom says to Momma. I escape before it's too late.

-


	12. eleven

**Jeremy's POV**

These four white brick walls are driving me more insane than what these people say I am.

I'm not supposed to be here.

I didn't kill a man. Michael did.

So why am I in the mental hospital?

-

**Michael's POV**

"Look, I know you can't hear me. You're dead. Of course you can't hear me." I sigh. "But I just wanted to apologize. I know that you're never going to forgive me and that I went too far, but you drove me past my breaking point. Next time, I won't stab you three times. I promise. Just send me a sign? A sign that you heard me."

Nothing. I want to feel him for some reason, but I know that'll be a bad idea. He's covered with a blanket. We're in the middle of a field. I decided I wanted to visit Rich, especially since I'm the only one who knows where he is.

I feel a chill run down my spine. Some sort of light in the darkness. I stand up, turning to go back to my car.

"Ah, shit!" My heart almost stops. Is that...? "I have to be dreaming."

"Hey, piece of shit. Thanks for visiting me, you shitty excuse of a human being."

"Holy fuck," I mutter.

"You can see me, right?" I nod. "Good. I'm haunting your ass forever."

-

**October 18th, 2019**

"I was just wondering if I could hang out with you guys?"

I get a few looks of suspicion, one of surprise, and one that just seems to not want anything to do with me.

Quick explanation: I came to the mall because I was bored and I happened to stumble upon these guys. You know, Jeremy's friends. Although they don't look very friendly, not in this situation.

The look of surprise: Christine. The ones of suspicion: Jake, Jenna, Chloe. The one that doesn't want anything to do with me: Brooke.

Christine breaks the silence, "I don't mind. I'm sure the others wouldn't mind either."

"Why hang out with us? Don't you have other matters to attend to?" Brooke asks, the sound of her voice threatening. I honestly regret making the decision of telling her.

"Oh, sorry, deepest apologies for not being here for the past almost year, I was too busy fixing my friendship to make any new friends." I use the same tone she uses. Everyone looks at me. I know what question they're asking. I let out a long sigh. "He stopped talking to me, lol." I say the lol part, because the situation isn't funny.

"He hasn't been at school." Christine says. He's been avoiding school, too? Yeah, school isn't the safest place for him, but I know he hates not going because he's going to miss his work.

I notice they're all giving me a look. One that blames all of this on me.

"Oh, so it's my fault? Got it." I say casually, shooting Brooke a look which she just shrugs off.

Christine begins, "Well, we're not saying it's your fault--"

"He can tell by the stares, Chris." Jenna says. Christine sighs and looks down in guilt, trying to think of something to say. Chloe and Jake just sit silently, avoiding eye contact with me, as if I could kill them just from a look in my eyes. Then that reminds me, Jeremy seemed to like looking in my eyes. The thought gives me bad feelings.

"I gotta head out, actually. Nice seeing you guys again. Thanks for accusing me of whatever, you know. I appreciate it." I give a weak smile before turning the other way and headed somewhere away from the food court.

Naturally, I end up by the penny fountains. The water fountains where you throw the coins into them? We called those the penny fountains because that was the only thing about the fountains that had significance to thirteen/fourteen-year-old Jeremy and I at the time. That and the fact that he once fell backwards into one.

I'm sitting on a bench across from the fountain, ignoring all of the somewhat busy mall traffic around me. Everything's starting to become a constant reminder. It's going to get to the point where I'm like, 'Oh, I breathe air. Jeremy liked air.' And he's not even dead. Not from what I understand.

But my understanding of the situation is starting to change.

I'm sitting on this bench, fidgeting with my hoodie (which I've recently started wearing again, lol), ready to just leave. What was the point of even coming here? Why would I ever think that I'd be able to just enjoy my life for even one afternoon?

I feel a hand on mine and then the presence of someone else sitting next to me on this bench. The hand moves away very quickly, so I'm sure they touched my hand on accident. I look over to the side to see who it is.

"...What are you doing? Did you just follow me here?"

"No, not exactly."

"Then how'd you find me?"

"You're not that hard to find. I just needed to talk to you, one on one."

"About...?" I'm not sure if I want to have a conversation with Jake.

"Look, I don't think you're a bad kid. I try my best not to judge others."

"Where's this going?"

Jake sighs. "I just need a better understanding of the situation."

I shift around uncomfortably in my seat. "Why? I think it's better to just let you think what you want."

"But I know what I think isn't the truth. I need to hear it from you."

I sigh, looking at my shoes. "...I know what I was doing. I was completely aware. I just get these...these moments. I just turn completely insane...I don't know how to fix it. I don't know why he's not showing up, though. He hasn't responded to my texts, he hasn't shown at my house, so, I don't know."

I don't look at him for his response.

"And you're telling just us this?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I respond, heartbeat louder than before.

"Why would you do this and trust other teenagers to keep your secret?"

"Because I know that teenagers won't tell anyone about what I did, since I'm capable of doing what I did."

"Well, do you think this disappearance is linked to Rich's disappearance?"

My eyes widen. "No. I barely knew Rich, how would I know?"

"You barely knew Rich, huh?" Jake asks. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Even before Jeremy?"

My breath hitches. "I-I didn't know Rich like I thought I did."

Jake laughs dryly. "So, you just dated him and ended up not knowing him...? None of this adds up."

"It doesn't need to add up. Rich and I weren't a real thing. I don't know what happened to Jeremy, o-or Rich. I did end up hurting Jeremy, and I knew what I was doing, but his disappearance wasn't linked to that."

There's an awkward silence, then Jake chuckles again. I bite the inside of my cheek nervously. I feel my hands shaking in my hoodie pocket, cold and clammy. My heart and my mind are racing.

"Okay. I believe you."

And just like that, he left. Those four words are obvious lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jump in the line! rock your body in time! okay, I believe you!


	13. twelve

**Jeremy's POV**

**October 20th, 2019**

I have a roommate now. I never caught his name. We're still in the "safe" rooms of this hellhole, but it could be a lot worse. This place isn't even that bad, not gonna lie. They treat us well.

Oh, and that nurse who I had at the hospital a while back? Nurse Heidi? Yeah, she works here now. And she was completely shocked when she saw me here. I was just as shocked. I don't know what convinced me to check myself in. (Probably my dad. That man is good at persuasion, I swear.)

I'm usually sitting in my room with my roommate. We share similar experiences. Self harm, somewhat substance abuse, you know. The bisexuality thing. He's been here longer, he just got moved back here because he started hurting himself again. I hope that I'll be able to help him.

The bandages wrapped around my wrists are clean. The cuts scabbed up almost two weeks ago, I just keep the bandages so I don't pick at them or have to look at them.

It's only been a few days in here, but I'm already feeling a lot better. They make me eat, I started refusing at first, but I realized it's important for me to eat, so mealtimes are the highlight of my day. They put me on meds, similar to the ones I had before, except these ones seem to work better for the anxiety and depression and stuff. Sometimes I wonder if I'm even depressed. Sometimes it feels like I'm just seeking attention. But... I don't think that's the case.

I've even gotten more confident. I don't know how that happened. It's a mystery to me. Maybe it's the things they say. Maybe it's the absence of certain things in my life here. The absence of the constant reminders, 'you're beautiful' and 'I love you', because I know that those things can't be what he really thinks. Not after what he did. I try not to think about it.

I've stopped wearing long sleeved shirts, because there's no use hiding the scars when almost everyone here has them too. Some worse than others. I've stuck to some simple short sleeved white shirts and stuff like that. Today, this one has stripes.

"Jeremy?" A voice from the doorway. I look up from the book I'm reading. Nurse Heidi.

"Hi." I laugh quietly.

"I have some questions to ask you...I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, of course not." I take a mental note of the page I'm on and close the book. It's just me in here today. The roommate is going to the sharing circles and stuff. I get the option of skipping out on them.

Heidi closes the door and smiles weakly. She looks tired. "How's it going today?"

"Better." I answer honestly. I want to ask her the same question.

"That's good."

I'm starting to wonder if the others sent her in here or if she's doing this on her own.

"...I'm already halfway done with this one." I refer to the book. We're not allowed to have phones except for on the weekends, but I skipped this weekend because I just wasn't feeling it. I like being in my own world, away from my phone where I have so many constant reminders of my dead best friend and my murderous boyfriend. Not like I don't have those reminders now, but I really won't like seeing their pictures. Especially since my lockscreen is literally a selfie of Michael and I from the day we got together.

She only smiles before moving on. "I was wondering if it's okay to talk about what happened a while ago."

I remember. "I guess...I already told you it was an accident." I know what he did wasn't an accident.

"I wasn't sure if you were telling the truth."

My eyes widen. "I am." I don't know how good of a liar I am.

"...Was everything going okay with Michael? Is everything going okay?"

It starts slipping. "I-I don't know." Her expression turns into one of concern. "I haven't spoken to him." I'm trying to cover it up. Make it seem okay.

"...What about the kid who visited you in the hospital?"

It physically hurts, the thought of Rich. "...He's in a better place. Hopefully."

She gasps quietly. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry for asking."

"No, it's fine. I needed to just say it." I sigh. Her eyes ask a thousand different questions. I start with the most obvious one. "He was killed, yeah. Whether it was killed himself or got killed...I don't know."

"Oh my..."

"Don't pity me. I-I guess he'll always be in my memory, you know? I don't feel like talking anymore." I feel the tears forming in my eyes. Needless to say, I just really need to escape the feelings right now.

-

**October 28th, 2019**

I'm going home tomorrow. Not much else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a short chapter, i just wanted y'all to check in with jere :)
> 
> michael's becoming just as much as the main character in this story as jeremy is and that's why you don't see jere very often anymore, so i'm trying to give you your jeremy content and let you all know that he's doing so much better
> 
> can't wait to see what the future holds!
> 
> -micha :)


	14. thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins.

**Michael's POV**

**October 29th, 2019**

I almost throw my damn alarm clock across the room after turning it off. It's too early for this shit.

Last Monday, I decided that I wanted to go back to school to take my mind off of Jeremy and to get my life back on track. I came back to school last Wednesday. School = waking myself up at five in the morning just so I know to be awake by six.

I groan as I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I reach for my phone, hoping to see something from Jeremy. Absolutely nothing shows up in my notifications. Not surprised, but I go to my messages anyway.

I started reading back on our texts from a while ago just to keep some aspect of our happiness in my mind. But the truth is, we weren't happy. We never were happy. We might never BE happy, not after this. It's just good to know that we were happy at one point in time.

I notice something different on my most recent text.

 _'Read 2:17 AM'_. Oh, that shit hurted. For one, that means he's not dead and he's been ghosting me. (Then again, it's reasonable.) Two, two seventeen in the morning. It's not safe for him to be up that late/early. I care too much for my damn boyfriend who hates me. (Once again, reasonable, and I hate me too, so...) Three, he didn't even respond to anything I said. (It was just a mix of constant apologies, 'I miss you's and 'I love you's, but still.)

I was going to text him again, but I came to the conclusion that I'm annoying and he doesn't want to speak to me, so I don't.

-

I go about my day how I used to. I always carry around my backpack, I avoid the stares in the halls and I ignore the teachers when they tell me to take my headphones off. I know I should be respectful, but I don't want to.

I do sit alone at lunch (which is kinda depressing), I skip P.E. because I can, I somehow managed to turn in my work on time, and everything's going pretty alright so far. School isn't the worst, but I certainly don't like it. It's just giving me something to do and adding onto stress I already have. See? It's not that bad.

Then you've got an entire group of friends who thinks you're some abusive, psychotic murderous boyfriend! Which is completely incorrect and an overstatement.

...Maybe not.

-

**October 30th, 2019**

Same routine, same as always. I go through the first few classes easy. Everything's going smooth, going fantastic. I take my seat, which is toward the back and has an empty seat next to mine for no reason in particular. I don't watch my fellow peers as they fill their seats, but I know it's there. I slip my hood on over my head with my headphones on my ears. They're not plugged in, they're just good at reducing noise. I prop my legs up on my desk and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes.

This goes on for a few moments, then I get bored and put my legs back down, opening my eyes. I look out of the corner of my eye, someone sitting next to me.

Someone who looks too damn familiar. I forgot my glasses today (which is a major inconvenience in math class where you sit in the back), but my nearsighted ass can tell who this is clearly. I sit and stare for a moment, pinch myself, trying to convince myself that this isn't Jeremy and that I'm just fucking insane.

It gets worse. He looks at me for a split second. Then he recognizes my hoodie and then me. He pretends he doesn't see me, so I fake cough loudly. He just stares off into space. This bitch.

"Don't act that way." I say, pulling my hood and my headphones down.

"...Oh. I didn't know you were going back to school." Jeremy responds, avoiding looking at me, like if I could kill him with just a look.

"I would have told you if I weren't convinced that you were fucking dead." I'm so angry and happy and relieved at the same time. I want to either kick him, kiss him or fuck him.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes.

"No, no, don't apologize." I tell him. "...I'm just glad you're not dead, Jeremy."

Before he can say anything else, the tardy bell rings and class starts. The teacher starts by taking roll. He goes down the list and there's some names I don't pay attention to, but every day, one of them catches me.

"Goranski?" The teacher calls out. I feel uneasy. I get memories. I look at Jeremy and he looks at me, anger and terror and guilt in his eyes. I don't know what to say, so I look away. "...Still not here...?" The teacher mumbles. There's some murmurs across the room, I'm assuming about Rich's whereabouts and what may have happened to him.

But only Jeremy and I know the truth.

-

"You taking the bus home...?" I ask. Jeremy nods. "Alright...I can always give you rides home too. I hope you know that."

"I know...thanks for the offer, I guess. Just taking the bus for now. I'll think about it."

This new Jeremy's kinda weird. He filled me in on where he's been. Mental hospital. He's a lot more open and... he's just... I'm not used to it. Not yet.

"Tomorrow, you wanna hang out or something...?" I ask. "We can just...do whatever. We can stay at my house or we can go trick-or-treating. We can do basically whatever."

Jeremy thinks for a moment, messing with the straps on his backpack. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Get back to me about it? I gotta head out." I tell him. He nods. "Alright, well, I'll see you tomorrow, Jere. Stay safe."

He probably wonders why I care so much.


	15. fourteen

**Jeremy's POV**

After a few hours and an exchange of text messages, I've ended up back at Michael's house, which is really not where I'm supposed to be. I'm here anyway. We're sitting on the floor, Michael's been playing a game on the Nintendo for last few minutes and I've just been watching the screen. It feels really good to just be back in my element.

"Thanks for coming over, Jere...even though I don't deserve it."

My attention shifts to Michael now. "I needed something to do. They told me to get out more, to just...you know?"

"Yeah." Michael says. "Wanna play?" He offers. I shake my head. I'm not going to just jump right back into how things were. I'm going to take things slow and make this easier on myself.

"I'm good." I tell him. "You're better than I am at it."

Michael frowns and pauses the game. He does something to save his progress then focuses his attention to me. "We can do something else."

"I don't mind this right now."

"...Are you okay?"

I want to start my rant. I want to go on for hours about the threats and how I felt the need to take my life and how much he scared me and how hard it was to get back up on my feet. I want to just break down, to just be able to unravel until I'm nothing, to just feel safe. I just want to feel safe with Michael again.

"...I'm doing better. Way much better."

"You need anything?" Michael asks.

I need it to stop. I need it all to stop.

"No, I'm fine right now..."

"Stop acting like that, please. Please just be normal. I know this isn't you."

The sudden confrontation messes with me. "This is me. Haven't I always been like this?"

Michael ignores my question. "...God, I'd do anything to have you yell at me again. It made me feel like you actually cared about yourself, sticking up for yourself when...fuck. Something's so off. It's fucking with me."

"Michael, you know I didn't ever mean to yell at you--"

"I know, and that's what I like about it. It was so out of character for you to do that. I kept saying shit repeatedly and you still kept defending yourself and everything you had, and...I'm so bad."

"Bad...?" I ask, but I already know what he means.

"I'm a suspected murderer. No longer suspected of your murder, so not really suspected of anything, but I am a murderer. Those people can't make it in the real world. It's easier to hide it at sixteen, but when you turn eighteen, if they link any part of you to this shit..." He sighs. "Then that's it. I'm looking at prison for life, Jeremy, I-I don't know what to do."

"And you expect me to know?" A chill runs through the air. "You killed a good friend of mine. You can figure this out on your own."

"I know that wasn't me who took over when that happened! Jeremy, come on-"

"I don't want to argue right now, Michael. We've got other things to worry about."

"What's more important to you at this point than your dead boyfriend?"

"Best friend! He was my best friend! You were my boyfr--You are my boyfriend! And what's important is keeping myself happy because it's a luxury that I'm not able to afford! It's not like I can just, I don't know! Fuck!"

Michael stares at me in surprise. I didn't mean to yell, I swear. He pushed me over the line last time and I was specifically told not to let it happen again. I begin my one of many apologies, "I'm so sorry-"

"Just kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me and forget this argument happened for a bit. Let's try to fix our night. I'm not letting it go down in anger."

It takes me a moment to decide, but I do, and there's no looking back now that my lips are fully against his. I kind of missed this feeling. Michael's hand rests on my cheek, brushing some of my hair off of my face (or at least tries). I feel my anger melt away, accompanied by that chill I felt earlier. I shudder from that chill but smile into the kiss.

A few moments pass and something changes. I feel myself getting closer to him. I end up straddling him, getting too caught up in our now makeout session. I feel his hands on my body and it seems like all of the trauma I had just disappeared during the time I was gone. I don't stop him from touching me.

(I still don't feel safe.)

After a while, I end up laying on Michael's bed with him hovering over me, kissing me on the cheek and anywhere else he can without taking any of my clothes off of me. He takes a moment and smiles at me, and I smile back. This is one of the happiest moments we've had, and I'm not ready for that to end.

"Welcome back, Jere." Michael tells me. I think I'm ready for what's next.

-

**October 3** **1st** **, 2019**

I wake up a bit earlier than Michael does, and I'm assuming his alarm might go off any minute now. First thing I notice: he has his arms around me. We fell asleep like that, cuddling naked underneath the covers. (Yes, I'm aware that's kinda weird but it's sex. Don't push the feeling.) It's cold, but Michael's enough to keep me warm. I take in the moment while it lasts.

I start drifting back to sleep up until the alarm goes off, scaring the shit out of me. It takes my heart a second to start beating again. I sit here awkwardly, waiting for Michael to wake up as his alarm goes off, the noise starting to get on my every nerve. I don't feel him move, but the alarm stops. I look away from the wall and over at Michael, who's laying right next to me and is barely awake. He sees me and smiles weakly.

"Did you turn the alarm off...?" I ask quietly. He shakes his head. "Huh."

"I missed you so much." Michael whispers, running his fingers through my hair and then along my cheekbones. "I missed you." He repeats. I feel my face redden. He kisses my forehead, and the small amount of touching that happens just...fireworks. I feel myself about to explode into just everything I feel right now.

"I guess we should probably get ready for school, yeah...?" Michael asks.

"Can we cuddle for a while longer?" I respond with a question.

Michael grins. "Of course." He pulls me in close to where we're pressed up against each other, and I feel his skin on mine and the feeling makes me melt. I feel so vulnerable in his arms yet so confident and comfortable, even with these bandages around my wrists and my ribs barely poking out from underneath my skin, which is a lot better because I'm recovering from that and I'm much healthier, and the freckles that are on my shoulders and down my arms and back that I've always been so insecure about.

(I feel loved but I don't feel safe.)

We sit there for a moment in silence, then I start kissing Michael. I don't know what I'm doing. I kiss him on his cheek, then I bury my face in the crook of his neck and kiss there too. He laughs quietly as I keep kissing up his neck. I want to leave marks but I have the feeling he'll make fun of me for it, so I resist that urge. If it wasn't an hour before we have to leave, I'd take this opportunity to do so many bad things to him. Yeah, I _am_ aware of how weird that sounds.

I stop with the kissing and put my head on Michael's chest. I hear his heart beating, much quieter than what mine is. He's so soft. He's a great pillow. I tell him this and he laughs. A good laugh, one that lets me know that I can at least make him happy, and that's good enough for me. I'm tired of making him unhappy. I'm just tired.

(So much for wanting to take things slow.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s not surprising to me that they fucked


	16. fifteen

**Michael's POV**

I knock gently on the bathroom door. "You okay, Jeremy?"

"Yeah..." He responds.

"Can I come in...?"

"...I guess."

I turn the knob and open the door with my eyes partially covered, partially because this is my boyfriend and I just saw him naked a bit ago, so it wouldn't matter, and I stand in the doorway. "Can I look? You're not peeing, right?"

Jeremy laughs awkwardly. "No, I'm not. I guess it's fine."

I look up at him. He's standing in front of the mirror, still not dressed entirely, and I'm sure it's cold. "You been looking in the mirror?" I ask. I notice that he undid his bandages too.

"Uh, yeah...I was wondering if you would help me wrap these again? They were starting to fall off."

"Maybe you should stop looking at the mirror, don't you think?" I ask, approaching Jeremy at the sink. I bend down and open the cabinet underneath, looking for some first aid kit I somehow remembered was underneath here.

"Well, yeah, I guess." Jeremy mumbles something afterwards that I'm not gonna bother asking what it was. I, very easily, find the first aid kit and set it on the sink before closing the cabinet and getting back up.

"You excited for tomorrow?" I ask.

"For Halloween? Oh, hell no. This morning I remembered that a year ago I did all of that shit."

The memory doesn't hurt as much, because the entire incident left us with a weird Jeremy, but I remember it. "Let's not think about it. We're gonna make new memories." I open the box and pull out a roll of bandages and the bandage tape (I don't know if that's what it's called). I look at Jeremy, who's watching patiently, a response struggling to form.

"Do you really forgive me for that?" He asks.

"Yeah." I say, holding my hand out for his arm. Jeremy puts his wrist in my hand, trying to avoid looking at the old cuts. I take the roll of bandages and undo the end so I can start wrapping it around his arm.

"Why?"

I place the edge of the bandage in his hand, "It was forever ago, Jeremy. You were the one I relied on at that time, but things changed this year. I have to make sure you're safe. I don't give a fuck about what happened last Halloween. Let's just make memories to go over it." I start wrapping the bandage over his hand and then his wrist, making sure to go over twice. There's no other speaking with this first hand. After I'm done, I grab the tape to secure the ends in place.

"I'm sorry for it. I really am."

"I know this and it's fine. It was a year ago."

"I wanna make it up to you."

"Jeremy, these past, what, eleven months? They've been really awesome, for the majority. I'm just glad you're back in my life. That's all the making up I needed." I start on the other hand. There's some more quiet as I wrap this hand. After I'm done, I speak. "Get dressed, we're about to be running late."

"Can I get a hug...?" Jeremy asks.

I nod and smile. I wrap my arms around him from the back, holding him tightly. "You're cold." I laugh.

"And you're warm." Jeremy responds. I rest my head on his shoulder and sigh, closing my eyes. I feel Jeremy's hands rest on mine. There's a moment of silence, words wanting to be said but they can't come out.

"I'm gonna leave you to get dressed, okay? Then we'll leave." I tell Jeremy, letting go of him and opening my eyes again. Jeremy nods, followed by a deep sigh. I walk to the door, my hand lingering on the doorknob. I turn back and look at Jeremy, who's looking at me. "...Jere?"

"I-I don't feel safe." He says. "It's not you. It's not. It's me."

I raise an eyebrow. "You don't feel safe...?"

"It's been bothering me. I didn't want to tell you because I knew it was going to cause problems."

I realize what this is about. "I haven't thought like that in a while, Jeremy, I'm sure everything's gonna be fine-"

"But what if more people get hurt? W-What if I get hurt?"

I'm quick to defend myself. "No. Nobody's gonna get hurt."

"Y-You have the potential to hurt others."

"Don't we all?" I ask. "You could hurt others too. We all hurt people. Whether they die from it or not, that's up to you to decide." Jeremy's look turns into one of paranoia and fear. I realize the words coming from my mouth.

"Don't think you're not safe. You're safer with me than on your own. Just trust me on this, Jere." I try to convince him. Jeremy just looks away. I sigh. "I...I'm not gonna hurt you. I know that's what you're thinking."

"I didn't say that-"

"It's in the way you look, Jere."

Jeremy sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Just give me some time alone. Let me get ready."

-

Fingers interlaced during math class like we never had that conversation this morning. Everything falls into place perfectly. The picture perfect relationship we once had (it was a while ago) seemed to be back, there were just some...modifications.

I look at Jeremy during the lesson and he looks at me. I smile, and he manages a weak smile back. I kinda get distracted by him. I should be paying attention, but he's all I can think about.

-

**October 31st, 2019**

School's been over for a few hours and I'm ready for the rest of the night. I don't have any plans in mind, but I convinced Jeremy that we could probably just go down the streets and pretend to trick-or-treat. Just without the costumes and the candy.

"You ready to leave?" I ask.

"Uh...are you? I don't know if we should go out if you've been getting high."

I giggle. "Pfft, nonsense. I'll be fine. Want a hit?" I ask, offering my blunt to Jeremy.

"I-I don't know, someone's gotta be sober."

"Sober people are lame. Come on, Jere-Bear. Please?" I whine. "I'll have a surprise for you at the end of the night." I smirk.

"Don't use that with me. It's not gonna work."

I frown. "Please? It's Halloween. This is literally the night of intoxicated teenagers. Just this once?"

He keeps saying no, and I keep persisting. Soon enough, he gives in, and I don't feel bad at all. I don't feel. I'm just giggly and happy. I know Jeremy's lightweight, so his feeling is much more intense and interesting to watch.

"You're kinda cute." He slurs, smiling. "You know, I feel really great. What would happen if I had alcohol?"

"I don't know, maybe we should try it." I smirk. "My moms left for some party. Maybe we should raid the liquor cabinet."

Jeremy gasps. "What the hell? That's a great idea!" He grins. I feel like a proud parent, I really do. Maybe it's the drugs.

"Alright!" I smile back. "Let's do it. Then we'll go out."

"We're going to scare the kids, Micha! What happens then?"

"That's good! It's Halloween! Halloween's scary!"

Jeremy goes back to smiling. "Aw, hell yeah!"


	17. sixteen

**Jeremy's POV**

"Look, look, look." I whisper. "That one's scared."

"So is his parents." Michael laughs. "I fucked up my grammar so badly."

I laugh along. "You're fucking stupid. It's hot."

I currently only have the understanding that Michael's my boyfriend and that he's a bad boy who excites me sexually, and that it's Halloween. I clearly don't remember that he murdered my best friend. I don't remember that I literally tried to kill myself weeks ago. I don't have any understanding of how my world works.

"You're hot." Michael slurs and I giggle.

"Okay, but not as hot as you are."

"Here, here. I have more weed." Michael seems to pull out another blunt out of nowhere.

I gasp. "The hell? Where'd that come from?"

"My ass." He giggles. "Want some?"

"Your ass or the weed?" I don't seem to be quiet for my life. I can feel the parents staring, but it's dark and I can't see them, so I don't bother staying quiet.

"How about...both?" Michael laughs. I rest my arm on his shoulder in attempts to keep myself standing, laughing my ass off. I don't think I can stand. You can blame the alcohol.

"Not now, maybe tonight, stop being so horny." I say, watching confused children and disgusted parents walk by as we stand in the middle of the street. It's dark out other than streetlights and I barely know where we are.

"Here, smoke grass, eat ass later." Michael puts the blunt in between my lips and smirks. "You're pretty."

I take said blunt out of my mouth for a second, "No, you're sexy."

"Oh, yeah? I guess I'll just have to agree with you." He takes the blunt back and lights it with a lighter he also seemed to have pulled out of his ass. He takes a moment to inhale and then he blows the smoke in my face, laughing. I cough for a bit, waving my hands to keep the smoke away. We keep walking down the street, and I notice that the setting starts to seem familiar.

"You are so drunk that it's cute." Michael says, taking another hit.

I frown. "Yeah, why didn't you have any alcohol?" I have to repeat the last word a few times because I can't say it right.

Michael puts a finger on my lips. "Shh, save the questions for later." He smirks. I'm confused, but I keep looking around. "Hey, doesn't Chloe live in...that house?" Michael asks, pointing at said house.

"...Huh. Yeah, she does." I smile. "Why?"

"The house is pretty. Wouldn't it look better if it were just...in flames?"

I freeze. "There could be people inside."

"Yeah, I think we're gonna kill them."

Something doesn't seem to process. I just say "Okay."

"Weren't you invited over there for a friend get-together or something? So...everyone's over there?"

"I think so?"

"Great. Maybe we could make a surprise appearance?"

"...I think so?"

"Alrighty, let's do it. Just say hi for few minutes...then we're going to need to get out quickly." Michael takes my hand and has to help me walk to the door. I'm excited to see my friends again, but are they excited to see me? "Knock on the door for me, Jere."

I frown and squint, trying to remember how to do that, but I remember quickly. I knock on the door gently, looking at Michael when I finish. He grins and then goes back to smoking. I wait uncomfortably for the door to open. I get excited again when it does.

"Jeremy? Michael...?"

I gasp and smile. Michael's the one to speak. "Hey, Christine." He flashes her a mischievous grin, blowing the smoke into the cold outside air. She seems confused.

"What are you guys doing here?" She laughs. She looks at me and smiles. "It's so good to see you again, Jeremy."

I frown. "What?"

Michael covers my mouth with his free hand and continues smiling. "Jeremy wanted to say hi to you guys. He wasn't going to come, and we don't really plan on staying long. He's a little...wasted. Don't mind him."

"That's not really like him..." Christine murmurs. "I guess he could come in? We're just playing Uno."

Michael smirks and looks at me, uncovering my mouth. "You wanna go inside?"

I nod. "Yeah. Carry me." I grin.

Michael sighs. "Fine, but take this." He takes the blunt from his lips and puts it in between my lips. I'm confused as to why it's burning, but I'm always confused. I wrap my arms around Michael's neck and then he picks me up, and I feel like a bride. "Okay, now give it back." I do just that.

Christine smiles. "I guess things are better?" She asks me.

"What?"

Her smile fades. "You really are drunk, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry."

Michael carries me inside and sets me on the couch. Everyone is in a circle in front of me, playing Uno like they said they were. They all look at me. I wave awkwardly and they wave back, say hi and smile.

"Where's the bathroom? I'm about to piss my pants." Michael asks.

"Upstairs. First door on the left." There's something in the way that Chloe says it that makes me feel like something's wrong with Michael.

"Thanks. He's drunk, by the way. Don't try to tell him anything, he's gonna forget once he's hungover."

Everyone goes back to doing whatever, and I seem to be the only one who notices that Michael goes back outside for a second. When he comes back in, he's hiding something, and he gives me a look. I try my best to pay attention to the game.


	18. seventeen

**Michael's POV**

I noticed the gas can on the porch, presumably for a lawnmower that must be in the dark yard. I know what I'm doing. I just don't know why. So I went back outside momentarily to grab said can, and I tried my best to hide it behind my back when I went up the stairs. I'm practically biting my blunt because I've been trying to keep it from touching the can or something like that.

Luckily only Jeremy noticed, and I knew he'd forget what he saw in the morning.

I peek through the window above the bathtub to see if there's any people outside. There weren't as many as I thought there would be to begin with, but there were a few late starters and then some other teens, maybe younger than I am, trying to find their way to parties they may or may have not been invited to. Shit, that makes me realize that I'm seventeen.

I assume that it wouldn't hurt me to start dousing everything in gasoline right now. So I try that, struggling with the can at first, but eventually getting the hang of it and trying my best not to get any gas on my clothes. I guess I have a thing for bathrooms, or maybe I really hate them. But from what I understand, if you light one room on fire, you're gonna end up burning the house down. That's just what I want to accomplish right now.

I cover the tub, deciding to just pull down the curtain rod so everything burns at the same time. It falls with a loud crash, and I flinch, but it seems nobody else noticed. I cover the floor with gas, then I put the can down and manage to make it without gas on my hands. I throw my blunt in the tub quickly, then I bolt down the stairs to collect my boyfriend.

"Jeremy had fun, loved your bathroom, can't talk, gotta go, bye!" I say, already picking Jeremy up bridal style again, which he yelps in response. The others look confused.

"Bye?" Jeremy says as I get us out the door. I try to get us away as quickly as i can, which isn't very quickly, but it's a good thing that Chloe lives--lived near the end of the street. What I just did won't bother me now, especially since I find it very okay, but it's gonna come back to bite me in the ass very soon.

"Michael, Michael, stop running!" Jeremy says as we reach the corner. I start slowing down to a stop. "Put me down. I can walk myself."

"You're drunk, Jeremy-"

"I'm fine. I might be drunk, but I'm fine."

I sigh and put Jeremy down, which he struggles to stand, but he continues to say he's fine.

"Why were you running?" He asks. "Is something wrong...?"

I open my mouth to speak, but then there's an explosion or something a few houses down. I look to see the house somehow already engulfed in flames.

I smile and hug Jeremy from the back. "Isn't it pretty?"

He holds my hands and watches for a few seconds, terror in his eyes. "Michael, I-It's on fire."

"Yeah, sure is."

"The...the house is on fire. We could've been in there."

"But we weren't."

"I-I don't want to watch this anymore. Let's go."

-

**November 1st, 2019**

After trying to get home and almost failing, stealing candy from bowls left for people to 'take one', a lot of reassuring, eventually finding the way home, some inappropriate touching which eventually led to sex and a few hours of after-sex sleeping later, I think we're pretty partied out and hungover. If you couldn't tell, we had our own little thing when we got back. I wouldn't really call it a party.

"God fucking damnit, my head hurts." Jeremy groans, threatening to slam his head down on the table. "Why'd I drink? Why? What did I even do when I was drunk?"

"Beats me." I shrug, though I remember the night almost perfectly. "We banged, like, twice in one night. I guess it was just two rounds, whatever. That's all I can really remember." I lie, about that last part, that is.

"Great. Now we've got to explain to your parents that I raided their damn liquor cabinet and that we don't remember anything I did afterwards. It's so...it's so unlike me."

"You've got that right." I remark, waiting for my waffles to get done. "But it's fine. They hardly open that thing anyway. They're not gonna notice some alcohol missing."

"I only remember, like, bits and pieces. I remember stealing candy. I remember we got lost. I remember some of the sex. I remember hearing sirens. No particular order."

I don't feel a single bit of guilt. "Huh."

"And...well, that's it." Jeremy looks at his bowl of milk (there was cereal beforehand) and then at me. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"I haven't a single clue, Jeremy. I can tell you what I remember but it sure as hell won't help you." I plop my feet onto the table.

"Just tell me. We can try to put clues together and we'll figure it out."

"The candy thing. All of the sex," I wink. "Um, I don't remember any sirens. I think we got lost, yeah. I did get high and I remember you were upset that you were the one who drank. Don't remember much else."

"Shit." Jeremy whispers.

"Hey." I glare at him. "Don't get upset about it."

"Something feels wrong, Michael. Terribly wrong. I don't know what it is and I need to figure it out."

I sure hope he isn't catching on. "Nothing's wrong. You're just overthinking it."

"No, no, no. Something really is wrong. I don't ever get drunk to the point where I can't remember things. I don't ever get drunk!"

"You had an alcohol addiction, like, a few weeks ago, Jeremy."

"But it wasn't bad. It wasn't like last night. I barely remember anything about last night."

"And that's normal for lightweights like you. It's fine. Nothing happened, I assure you that. It was just another day."

"Are you sure?"

Before I respond, my waffles pop up from the toaster. I don't respond to that question at all. I just grab my waffles and ignore the question. Jeremy doesn't need to know the truth. Not after everything else I've put him through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MICHAEL SET A FIRE AND HE BURNED DOWN CHLOE’S HOUSE  
> WOOOOOOAAAAH


	19. eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: indirect but implied mention of rape (because after months of deciding, i've made the decision that jeremy was fully raped on halloween by chloe last year. not the best plot decision, i know, but i think it's easier to explain the whole trauma thing jeremy had in the beginning of this story that way.)

**Jeremy's POV**

I couldn't sit through breakfast for very long. It was just Michael and I, home alone on a school day, and I didn't feel safe. Something felt wrong, and that chill I kept feeling every so often felt like it multiplied.

I start remembering everything that happened prior to this. It's not like the memories went away. I just was stupid enough to believe that I'd be too happy to think about past experiences.

I'd only thought about Michael's part of Halloween of last year. Not mine. Mine didn't seem important, but now it's just...it's everywhere in my mind. It's frightening. I'd pick this Halloween over last year's, and I don't even know what I did while I was drunk. I don't even think Michael knows my side of Halloween, but it's whatever now, I guess. He wouldn't care. He doesn't care about me. Not genuinely.

It'd help me out, but I can't stop knowing that he killed my best friend and threatened me multiple times, maybe more than once with a gun. The thoughts give me shivers. I hate it. I hate this. I wonder how many times exactly I've been in the room with the gun. It's hard to remember which room he could've put it in.

It all starts to become nauseating. I get a headache and I lie down on the couch. Michael asks if there's anything he could do to help, and I deny because I don't want his help. I just want the truth, so I ask for the truth.

"Nothing important happened, Jeremy, stop asking!"

"Don't yell at me!" I could've said it louder, but I didn't. I say it one more time, "Don't yell at me. I have a headache."

Michael seems to soften and he sighs. "I'm sorry." He sets his hand on mine. I'm tempted to pull my hand away, but I'm not in the mood to be petty.

I sit up and hold my head with my hand, trying to reduce the throbbing but it doesn't seem to work. The pain is so bad compared to anything else. I look at Michael, who's on the floor next to the couch and looking at me. He crosses his arms and sets them on the couch, then he puts his head on his arms and continues to look at me.

"I'm really sorry, Jere-"

"Sorry for what? You keep apologizing but you never tell me what for. There's tons you could apologize for." Example: The time in eighth grade when he took my pencil and never gave it back, or killing my best friend, or for whatever else.

"I don't know! I'm just sorry."

I sigh and I know it's hopeless. Even if anything did happen, he wouldn't tell me.

There's a few seconds of quiet, then Michael takes my hand. The one not holding my head. He focuses on my hand, intertwining our fingers, not making a sound. He seems to hold his breath.

"We've already discussed this," He says, his voice hollow and shaking. "I'm not a good person."

I almost respond with 'I know', then I remember the gun. Michael's hand starts shaking in my own. He looks like he's going to cry, a different side of him that I've never seen. Why is he vulnerable now? It's confusing.

"I...Michael..."

"I hurt you so badly," He takes a shaky breath. "And you're still dealing with me." His grip on my hand tightens, his hand sweaty yet cold. I notice a tear fall down his cheek, then everything that he's ever said and done go out the window. I still have this soft spot, and I'm not mad at all. It's crazy what my boyfriend crying can do to me.

He continues, "I know you're scared, but what about me? I'm scared of myself, it's the most terrifying thing I've felt in a while." More tears, shaking worse. Michael's breathing gets heavier, but he doesn't seem to notice.

I notice a tear or two fall from my own eyes, wiping them away quickly. It's not my moment to be this way. I rest the hand that isn't holding Michael's on his head, letting my fingers get tangled in his hair. I watch as he starts crying, mumbling some stuff in Tagalog that I'm sure I'm not going to understand. I let him cry because I'm not sure if he'll ever do it again.

"You ever been scared of yourself, Jeremy?" He says through tears in a hushed voice.

Him saying my name throws me off. I answer his question honestly. "Yeah."

He looks shaken up by my answer. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

I don't say much else. Michael ends up sitting next to me and I hold him as he cries. The only thing on my mind is how we got here, what he did, what he said. All the things I know, anyways. He's not a good person, but maybe he's not entirely a bad one. He's still young. It doesn't make what he did any better, but...I'll still care for him. Even if he doesn't care about me.

-

Michael fell asleep with his head in my lap, my clothes slightly damp from the tears. My headache reduced by a lot, so now it's just a dull pain in the back of my head. I started wondering when his parents will get back so I can go home to the comfort of my own room. Some part of me is convinced that it won't happen.

I keep getting those chills, the ones that just felt like they multiplied. I'm probably just extremely tired, but I swear I can hear voices, whispers, and it's creeping me out. I'm trying to distract myself by twirling some of Michael's hair around my finger but it's not working. I'm just focused on the noises.

A few minutes pass and Michael starts to stir. My hand leaves his hair and I watch quietly, glad that I'm not going to be alone for much longer. Michael's eyes open slowly, he blinks a few times and then looks at me. He smiles sleepily, then his smile quickly fades.

He sits up and rests his chin on my shoulder, quickly kissing my cheek and then turning his gaze away. "Sorry about earlier." He says quietly.

"We all get emotional." I say, resting a hand on his thigh. It was a surprise when he got really emotional like that. I wonder if it'll happen again.

Michael's cheeks turn a bit red and then he sighs. "It was embarrassing."

"It wasn't embarrassing, I've done worse."

"...True." He manages to crack a smile. The sight of his smile makes me feel good, and I catch myself smiling too. "You look pretty smiling. Please tell me you'll smile more often."

I bite my lip gently, then I nod. "I'll try."

Michael grins and leans in, kissing me softly. It catches me by surprise at first, but I melt into the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips on mine. I feel his smile against my lips, then his lips on my jaw, kissing along my jawline. Michael randomly giggles against my skin, continuing to kiss me.

I let him kiss me wherever, the negative thoughts all leaving my head. I forget about everything that's happened. I forget I'm mad. I forget that the boy who's kissing me is a murderer, and it seems like I constantly forget that.


	20. nineteen

**Michael's POV**

**November 7th, 2019**

Almost a week passes by and not many things happen, yet it feels like too many. I didn't go back to school after finding out that just six days ago, my parents were killed in a car accident.

I know, but don't feel any sympathy for me. I don't need it. When it all comes down to it, I killed people, so I don't deserve any sympathy.

Then all the guilt for that followed me soon after. It became so overwhelming that sometimes I'm just scared to think. I haven't seen Rich's ghost since that one night but I know he's been following me around. He's probably been taunting and teasing me with his bitch-ass ghost friends, if he has any at all. I remember that he started distancing himself from the others after he got out of the hospital from Halloween of last year. Then I remember the entirety of that relationship and I start to beat myself up over it.

I end up just sitting in the floor and having a complete breakdown. It started off with a panic attack, then just a bunch of silent crying, and now I'm just laying here, hoping I'll magically get the energy to stand up and make myself something to eat while I still can. I don't even know if I want to eat. My mind's been drifting off and telling me to do things that Jeremy did. I don't want to end up how he did, but it's so tempting.

This whole thing is so unlike me. I think I'd just hide my pain before, but something just changed earlier in the month. Maybe I'm just a person experiencing human emotions, but after all that's happened, I'm nothing humanlike. I'm a fucking monster, for God's sake, I could've prevented the deaths of nearly six people. I still don't know who died in that fire.

Everything's interrupted by one knock on the door. I look up even though I can't see from here. No glasses and the couch is in the way. I start guessing as to who it might be, then I decide, 'Hey, maybe I won't answer the door today.'

A few moments pass without a knock and then the door opens slowly. "Michael?"

I drop down to the floor. Maybe if I hide in front of the couch then he won't see me. Though it's useless hiding because Jeremy walks around the couch and sees me with my face to the ground. I look dumb.

"...Are you alright?" He asks. "You haven't threatened me in a while, so I figured something's wrong."

"Seriously?" I mutter, sitting up. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." Jeremy sits down om the couch. I turn away, immediately starting to lose my patience.

"Just go before we have any problems, okay? I'm fine, I don't need to talk to you."

"Michael-"

"Jeremy, I'm fine." I persist.

"You need to talk to me, Michael. I'm only here to help."

"I don't need to talk, and I don't need you, okay? I've got my own shit to deal with, I don't need another problem." Although it was what I was thinking, it wasn't what I wanted to say.

"...So I'm just a problem? That's all I am to you?" Jeremy asks quietly.

I turn back toward him, "You know I didn't mean it like that, Jeremy."

"Then what did you mean? I'm only trying to check on you and you're just shutting me out, a-and calling me a problem."

"Please just go, Jeremy! I-I can't do this right now."

"What are you gonna do if I don't? You gonna kill me too?"

I freeze. "What?"

"You gonna kill me too, Michael?" Jeremy asks. "You killed not one, not two, not three, but four of my friends, Michael. Am I next? Is it Brooke? Christine? They're the ones who told me what you did, you're gonna kill them for it, right?"

"What the hell? Jeremy, no! I-" I feel tears spring up in my eyes. This is what I am to him now. Jeremy anticipates that I'm going to be responsible for the death of two more of his friends and even himself, but the truth is, I can't actually bring myself to hurt him any more than I already have.

"Why would I do it again?" I ask.

"Why wouldn't you?" He asks me. I only blink and then I'm sobbing. I don't even bother asking for forgiveness. I fully understand that what I did was dark, and monstrous, and evil, and that I really just deserve what happened to the others.

"I've been dealing with this shit since September, it's time I've stood up for myself. I really should've done it a long time ago," Jeremy stands up and continues to torment me. "Why aren't you hurting me? Why aren't you doing anything?"

"Because I'm just a kid!" My voice breaks from my sudden increase in volume. "I-I'm just—I'm a kid! Even after all I did, I'm only seventeen years old, which doesn't justify my shit, b-but-" I cut myself off with an ugly sob. Fuck it. Fuck this. Fuck Jeremy. Fuck life. I'm fucking done.

"I should've just offed myself when I had the chance, Jeremy. I-I should've." I wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

Jeremy immediately seems to soften and drops to his knees to sit in front of me, "Michael, no."

"It would make me happy. I would be...I'd be so happy. Isn't that what you want? My happiness?"

"You sound absolutely ridiculous right now, Michael. Listen to yourself. You think that if you kill yourself, you'd be happy?"

"I know that if I kill myself, I'd be happy." I correct him in a monotonous voice.

"What about me? How do you think it'd make me feel if you just-"

"You'd be relieved, you'd be s-safe. I wouldn't be here to put you in danger." I let out a shaky sob. "Please break up with me, for your own good. Please. You deserve so much better than me, Jeremy."

"Michael..."

"Please, j-just do it. I wouldn't be mad. I'm not gonna do crazy, ratchet shit. Just do it."

Jeremy lifts my chin and wipes a few tears from my cheek. "No."

"Jeremy, please-"

"I'm not gonna do it. We're gonna do this living thing together, yeah? I abandoned you once, and I'm never abandoning you again," He pulls me into a hug, holding me tightly in his arms. "I'm so incredibly sorry for everything I just said."

"It was true," I mumble into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him. "So don't be sorry."

"We're gonna talk about this and neither of us is leaving until things seem better. We...we'll make it through this."

And so for the next hour, we talked. We talked about feelings, about how it all went down when he found out about Halloween, he got me to talk about Rich and we cried over that together. It's the first time we've felt like just friends in a while. I talked about how much I miss Mom and Momma, he talked about how he never gets along with his dad anymore. It sucks, it fucking sucks so badly. I know he's upset with me about what I did, I know everyone's upset with me about what I did. Even I'm upset with me. I have to move on and live with what I did, it's either that or go to prison, which I know I'm never going to survive there.

At the end of our long conversation, Jeremy's laying on top of me on the couch. His face is halfway buried into my chest and he's beginning to doze off. He takes my hand and he holds it, looking at it for a good while. I'm all cried out by now. Never again will I shed that many tears.

"Do you think we can fix this relationship and make it work again?" Jeremy asks, kissing my fingertips gently. He looks up at me for a response.

"I..." Flashbacks. "...I think so."

Jeremy gives me a cute little tired smile. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you feel some sympathy for my murderous bitch bestie michael mell because he be going through it rn


	21. twenty

**Jeremy's POV**

**November 8th, 2019**

I have so many mixed feelings. So many of them. Part of me wants to keep protecting this Michael and to make sure he's happy, and the other part of me wants to leave his bitch-ass for killing my friends. Four of them. He took four lives, and none of those people really did anything to him. Rich just fell for me, that's all he did. I remember falling for him, too. He didn't deserve to die because of it.

Sometimes I think it should've been me. I should've been the one to disappear. I should be where Rich is right now, not the other way around. I would do anything to see him again, I would. Then I look back at my sleeping, drooling, somehow still manages to make me think he's adorable boyfriend, and every one of those thoughts melts away.

It's fairly early in the morning, but we left a lamp on so there's some light. I've been awake for just a bit, just letting myself think. I cuddle Michael like a teddy bear, holding him like I'll never let him go again. He wouldn't want me to let him go anyway. I've come to realize that he's actually really attached to me, worse than it was before. I've gotta keep him company for a while.

Michael starts to squirm around from underneath me, which tells me he's going to wake up soon. I smile softly and then get an uneasy feeling as I start thinking more and more about him. I continue to think about what he did and how unsafe it made me feel. My hand trails up to the back of my neck where I can feel that scar. I shudder, pulling my hand away and slipping off of Michael.

I head to the bathroom to go check up on my bandages, or whatever shit I can do to keep my mind away from the things he did. I close the door gently behind me, slowly slipping off my sweater. I set it aside and I look in the mirror, starting to feel a lot better about the sight in front of me. I'm so much more healthier now. I've tried not to skip any meals, last night was an exception. I had to be there for Michael.

I look at my hands and unravel the bandages, glad to see that my cuts no longer scabbed up and that they're fully healed. I get a little nauseous thinking about that night, then I look away. I decide to toss the bandages in the trash, then I quickly pull my sweater back on. I should go check on Michael.

When I get back to the living room, Michael's sitting and he looks bored. He sees me standing in the hall and he gives me a little wave, accompanied by a weak smile. I manage a smile back and I take a seat on the other end of the couch.

"How'd you sleep?" Michael asks me.

"I slept pretty well...how about you?"

Michael shrugs. "Still trying to process reality."

I give a brief nod and let out a quiet sigh. Michael tilts his head, looking at me with a curious glance. I look away nervously and try to fake a smile to make up for my awkwardness. He crawls toward me and plants a kiss on my cheek, wrapping his arms around me. He rests his chin on my shoulder and I can feel his breath on my neck.

"I'm really sorry," Michael quietly says in my ear. I don't question it at all. "I don't know why you put up with me."

"I can't abandon you like that again." I hear myself say.

"It's worse than you think it is, Jere. I'm a terrible person."

"I don't like how you keep saying that."

"It's true—"

"But is it?" I ask. Of course it's true. Why wouldn't it be? Why am I still trying to defend him?

"...Do I really deserve you?"

"Michael..."

"You're so...so perfect. You're fucking amazing, Jere. I love everything about you, everything you do, just...I love you."

I feel like I might cry, it feels so nice to hear but I know it isn't right. It's not how he truly feels. We aren't some soulmate thing. We really shouldn't be together.

"I...I love you too, Michael." I say.

"Do you really?" Michael asks, like he can't believe me. That's not a question that should have to be asked. It's not one I should have to think about when answering.

"Of course I do."

"I can see through that bullshit from a mile away. Nice try," Michael sighs. "You really did try this time."

"Wha-? Michael, no."

"Jeremy, it's okay. I don't care."

"I really do love you, M-Michael, I do!"

"You d-don't have to pretend for me. Just let me love you, and I'll be okay. You don't have to love me back."

"I'm not..." I blink back tears. "Michael..."

He looks right into my eyes and rests a hand on my cheek, "Please don't feel bad for not loving me. I understand the pain that I put you through, you have such a good reasoning for not loving me."

"I _want_ to love you. I wanna love you so much."

"Sometimes it's impossible, and it's okay. You don't have to love me."

"Michael, please..."

Michael wipes a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. "It's okay. Hey, I need you to calm down. I'm gonna try to make breakfast for the both of us, okay? And after we eat, you need to go visit with Christine or Brooke and check on her. I need time alone anyway."

"How much time...?"

"Enough. If you want, you can come back. Only if you want to."

"Okay."

"I'll go get started on the food." Michael tells me and plants a kiss on my head. "Sit tight."

-

"I'm glad that you're doing a lot better, Chris." I fumble with my fingers. The dark is making me nervous, especially since we met at the park. Anyone could jump out at any time and do anything.

"Me too. I'm glad that you're doing better, too, and I hope that you're treated better now."

"I am, he does. We're working through it."

Christine gives me a warm smile and pulls me into a tight embrace. I can't help but smile as I hug her. She's so nice to me, even after all that happened. She's nice to me even though I'm dating Michael, who did what he did.

My hand makes its way to Christine's scarf and I intertwine my fingers with the fabric. I feel myself tugging at it, the scarf tightening around her neck. It feels accidental at first, but I don't stop.

"Jeremy, you're kinda..." She attempts to remove herself from the hug, but since my arms are around her, messing with her scarf, she can't get out.

Something starts feeling different and I feel the need to keep pulling at it. I move the ends to where they're facing me, wrapping the scarf a bit more. I don't let go. What the hell is wrong with me? What am I doing?

Christine lets out a nervous laugh and attempts to take her scarf back, but I keep holding on with a smile. "Please let go, Jeremy, I've gotta..." She trails off upon realizing that I'm just tightening it.

"You've gotta?" I ask, watching as she begins to turn the slightest shade of purple. Her eyelids begin to droop and she looks like she wants to struggle, but she knows that she can't. Her eyes close and she begins to collapse, but I manage to catch her.

I set her down on the ground gently and I get on my knees to finish the job. I tighten the scarf to the tightest I can get it to be, then I tie it in a knot. I watch her turn a different color, unsure about what I just did. I could go back and quickly try to undo all of this. I could save her.

But something tells me not to bother saving her, so I don't.


	22. twenty-one

**Michael's POV**

**December 7th, 2019**

I let out a sigh and stare at the stars, wishing I had something warm to drink or a blanket or something. I'm only wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans. I lent Jeremy my hoodie and he took all the blankets, but I don't mind. He looks better in my hoodie than I do anyway.

He's been acting normal lately, which is a good thing. I missed the old Jeremy, the one that wasn't completely petrified around me. Something between us has really changed and I know it's because of what I did, but after he left my house that one night, it's been way different. I've been trying to get him to talk to me about his life, but he shuts me out and tells me not to worry about it. It's worrying me.

My hand crawls into Jeremy's, and he holds on tightly but doesn't look at me. I've been shivering for however long we've been on his roof. I remember trying to push him off a few months ago. The memory brings stinging tears to my eyes, but I hold them back so Jeremy doesn't have to watch me cry again. I've been doing good with it.

"Michael,"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't be mad at me."

Jeremy's gaze meets mine. He looks worried, and I probably look confused. "I'm not mad at you, Jere. I've got no reason to be."

"Oh, right," He laughs awkwardly. "You don't know."

I shake my head. "No, I don't...but I won't be mad if you _want_ to tell me."

"Michael, I..." Jeremy's hand is no longer in my own. He buries his head into his hands in shame. He huffs loudly and looks back to the stars. I can see his eyes becoming glassy and his face growing even more red. "I'm fucked in the head."

I chuckle softly, "No, you're not. Where'd you get that idea from?"

"It's not funny. I'm fucked in the head, Michael. Please just acknowledge that."

I roll my eyes, "Your boyfriend killed four people, Jeremy. _You're_ fucked up?"

"I didn't _want_ to strangle her, it just happened!"

"Strangle her? Did you—" I think about this for a moment. "Did you kill Christine? Brooke?"

"I-I didn't mean to turn into _you_."

If anything would make me upset, it's that. "Turn into me? Really? That's mature."

"Michael, you know I didn't—"

"You just blamed me for _your_ actions. _Your_ decisions that _you_ made. You killing Christine is _my_ fault?" I ask.

Jeremy ignores my question, "I asked for you not to be mad!"

"I'm not mad!" I'm furious deep down inside and I don't even know why.

"You're _not mad_ about the main part, you're mad about the thing I didn't mean to say!"

I scoff, "What am I supposed to say? ' _You killed a person, congratulations!'?_ Am I supposed to tell you how disappointed in you I am to make you feel bad, am I supposed to be _scared?_ "

"I-I don't know! I've never been in your position, you've never been in mine!"

"Jeremy, shut the fuck up about it or I'm gonna kill you too!"

"I—" Jeremy goes silent for a moment, then my words sink in for the both of us. His lip begins to quiver and tears form in his eyes. He lifts his hand up to hide his face with my sleeve and he starts to cry, curling into a ball. I speak quickly, trying to tell him that I didn't mean it, but he starts sobbing over me. I reach out to touch his shoulder, but he quickly (and aggressively) pulls away and screams at me not to touch him. He practically rips off my hoodie and throws it at me, which hurts me the most.

"Take your fucking hoodie." He says, turning his back to me.

"Jeremy, I—" I cut myself off and sigh deeply. I slip my hoodie on and I'm met with warmth, something I had wanted all night.

"Go away. Go home. I don't wanna see you."

It hurts a lot, but I don't show it. "If that's...if that's what you need, I'll go."

I slowly crawl over to the window, looking back at the stars for a second. They've always reminded me so much of Jeremy. Perhaps it's the fact that he's a freckled boy, and stars are basically like the night sky's freckles. Or that they remind me of the color blue, much like Jeremy does. He's always been blue and I've always been red. Red. That's a terrible color. It's the color of _anger_ , of _fire_ , of _blood_ , the side of the shower handle that makes the water burn you, of _danger_ and it suits me so well. Maybe since I'm always angry, and I set a fire, and I've seen so much blood that isn't mine, and I'm a danger to everyone around me. That's why they're all _gone_.

"Oh, and Michael?"

I turn back for a hopeful sign.

"I'm breaking up with you. Something I should've done a long time ago."

My eyes widen and my heart drops. My chest becomes tight and nothing seems real. I get an overwhelming case of deja vu. I remember this happening back in May, but with Rich instead of Jeremy. He said that exact same thing, I think. I want to cry, I want to say no, I want to stop all of this from happening because all I've wanted to do was love Jeremy and nothing else, but I stop myself from stopping it.

I awkwardly stumble over my words for a moment before learning how to speak again. "Oh, o-okay. Um...okay. Thank you for being here...it was a nice summer with you. I'm sorry for everything, I know sorry won't be enough but...an apology is there."

Jeremy still has his back turned to me. He doesn't appear to care, he doesn't even appear to be listening. I should've known, I did threaten to hurt him again after all. Everything turns sour at that thought. _I should've just kept my mouth shut._ I turn back to the window and I crawl into Jeremy's room, unsure of how I'm going to get home and unsure if I'll have power when I get there. Nobody's alive to pay the bill.

I think I hear Jeremy tell me to wait, but I come to the conclusion that it's in my imagination.


	23. twenty-two

**Jeremy's POV**

**December 8th, 2019**

I roll my eyes before taking the pills that my dad put in front of me, the ones I'm supposed to take so I don't try to kill myself again. I take them one by one as my dad watches. He does it to make sure I don't overdose or something like that, or to make sure I don't take more than I need to. I've thought about shoving a handful of them down my throat a few times today, but I've decided against it so I don't get in trouble.

"There. I'm done." I bitterly say after I finish. I haven't touched my food. I don't want to. What if there's something in it that could kill me? Questions like this flow through my mind, then I realize this is my dad. He's just trying to look out for me. I used to _trust_ my dad, now I can't trust anyone.

"Don't give me attitude, Jeremy. I'm just trying to keep you safe. After everything you told me-"

No, I don't want to talk about this. "Look, I know you're trying to be a better parent after the SQUIP shit, but can you just leave me alone every now and then?" I ask. Things start feeling more tense. I shouldn't have said _anything_ about parenting, that's not what I wanted to do.

My dad clenches his jaw, and even if it doesn't do much, it still adds to my nervousness. Why aren't the medicines working yet? "I'm looking out for you-"

"I'm not gonna try to kill myself again!" The words feel like fire, or something's being ripped out my chest, and it hurts so badly. The room fills with silence and I feel weak. Powerless. I feel my dad's stare and I think he's disappointed. I make a decision. "I'm gonna go check on Brooke. You know, because she was in a house fire that Michael set."

I told my dad everything about him. I didn't _mean_ to. It all slipped out after I broke up with Michael, after he left. I was crying because _holy shit I just did that_ , and my dad walked in after coming home from the night shift, and before I could stop myself, I told him what he did. From when I ended up in the hospital in the very beginning to why I asked my dad if I could go back to homeschool a few weeks back. I asked him so I could spend more time trying to heal Michael and trying to convince him not to off himself.

Like anyone else, Dad's reaction was horrible. We hadn't been getting along much ever since I came back from the mental hospital. I just keep getting really pissed at him. Maybe it's the stress of not knowing what Michael will do next, who he'll hurt instead. Dad wasn't able to comprehend what I was saying between my sobs at first, but I kept repeating myself and got louder and then it was all he could hear. I wouldn't stop talking about it. It all hurt coming back to me.

I didn't tell him about what I did to Christine. I lied about her. I said Michael did it. It felt like the right thing to do at the moment.

He wants to hurt Michael because of all this. I don't want that. I want to help Michael, I want to make sure that he'll be okay. But he killed four people, I pinned a murder on him and now I'm sure Brooke's too scared to leave her house. I took away everyone she loved because I wasn't able to stand up for myself like Rich. Never have I craved someone's presence so badly.

I fucking miss Rich Goranski. And I can admit it now that I don't have a boyfriend to stop me from missing him.

-

Brooke was relieved to see me. She said that she'd been hearing voices for weeks, similar to those of our friends. Michael told me about these voices too, but I figured they weren't real. If they were, wouldn't I be hearing them too?

Her eyes are tinted a shade of red, a sign of constant crying. She has dark circles under her eyes, I don't think makeup could even fix them. She was badly burned, I can tell. She wore a large hoodie to cover the burns her arms and she wore leggings, so I couldn't see those ones, but she mentioned them to me. Her voice wavers when she speaks.

"H-He killed my Chloe, he killed Jenna a-and Jake," She continues to tell me. I stay silent as she comes to a realization, "And Rich! Michael killed Rich too, didn't he?!"

All I say is: "Brooke..."

Suddenly, she turns on me. "You'd do anything to defend him, wouldn't you? You'd defend a fucking monster, someone who hurt you."

"I'm not defending him." Though I've been trying to make the situation seem a lot less worse than it is. Brooke almost died in that fire and she's the only one in our group who's alive. It hurts because it's all my fault. I should've broken up with Michael before.

"You never changed. It's been a year and you're still acting like a huge dick. I forgave you too fast, Jeremy."

"I..." Shit. Come on man, think! She called you out for dating her for popularity, something you feel bad for doing every time you think about it. Why am I sitting here doing nothing? Why am I still here? I should've left a while ago. "I'm sorry, Brooke."

"I doubt that you are, Jeremy." She responds, turning her back toward me. She pulls her curtain back and looks out her window, letting the sunset's light come into the room. Her skin glows golden where the sun hits it. She brushes her bangs from her face, biting down on her lip.

"I'm gonna go, okay? I...I need to go." I lie. I can't stand here and be guilty anymore. I need to go home and I need to take care of things, I need to do _something_.

"Go ahead. Please let the door hit you on the way out."


	24. twenty-three

**Michael's POV**

**December 15th, 2019**

Monster. Monster, monster, monster. That's all I've been hearing for the past week.

The ghosts in my house are trying to kill me because of what I did to them. You've got Rich, you've got Chloe, you've got the whole group except for Brooke, because she's still alive, obviously. Maybe they're all hallucinations. I haven't ate a proper meal in over a week. But the _voices_ are definitely real. A mix of hushed whispers and yells and screams will fill the open air if I try to sleep.

I haven't told Jeremy about how they're cutting the power off. I haven't told him _anything_. I haven't spoken to him since the night on the roof. I _need_ to see him, I _need_ to hear a real voice and feel real hands and I need the reassurance that everything might be okay. I need Jeremy and his stupid face.

"Okay, okay, that's enough! I'm leaving!" I practically scream, hoping that I can drown out their voices. I get up from the couch and begin to walk toward the door when a sharp pain suddenly rips through my stomach. It feels like I'm being stabbed. I already start feeling dizzy from the pain, and my legs give in. I fall to my knees.

"And where are you gonna go? To _Jeremy?_ You ruined everything you ever had with Jeremy!"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" I scream at him, gripping onto my matted hair. Burning tears form in my eyes because I know what he says is true, and the pain just seems to be getting worse.

"What are you gonna do if I don't? Kill me? Oh wait, you already did!" He taunts. If I could, I'd do it again. Right now. "I was good to him, Michael! You weren't!"

"Leave me alone!"

"What if I don't?"

I start beating on my head, hoping that'll stop the pain or get rid of his voice and the hallucination. It doesn't help. I just grab onto my hair again. Tears fall off my face almost gracefully, completely contradicting the pain searing throughout my body. "Rich, please, stop!" Because something tells me that he's causing this.

"After everything you did to me and Jeremy? No. I'm not gonna fucking stop."

"Rich, stop, you're making him cry!" Christine pleads. The other voice makes me feel so much more relieved. I let out a few choked up sobs, not for effect, but because I really need to. My grip on my hair loosens and I wipe my face with my sleeve, but it's useless since more tears are coming. What was sharp pain is now dull, but it's still there. I feel stupid for having that reaction.

"Please let me go." I beg softly, sniffling.

He hasn't said much, but Jake's voice is next. "Just let him go, Rich. He's crying."

I've never felt so weak for crying in my life. It hurts. It all hurts.

An exasperated ghost sigh. "Fine. Go. If you hurt him, I will eat you."

-

When I get to Jeremy's house, I'm surprised to find that he's home alone and that his dad is at work. Jeremy wasn't resentful toward me like I had expected. He wasn't bitter or hateful. He was scared, scared of something that wasn't me. My only guess is himself or his dad. I'd hate for either of those to be the case. He clung onto me as soon as he opened the door and saw me and hasn't let go since.

We sit on the floor in his living room. I sit cross-cross. Jeremy's head rests on my thigh and his arms are wrapped around me loosely. He hasn't said much. Me neither. I fear that anything I say will ruin the moment.

"M-Michael..." Jeremy looks up at me. He says it so softly that I can barely hear him. "I need to tell you something."

"Go ahead, Jere. If you _want_." I don't want another repeat of what happened on the roof. I don't want him to feel forced to tell me like he did back then.

"I-I relapsed."

"You...hurt yourself again?" I ask in a gentle voice, for confirmation.

Jeremy nods weakly and winces like it pains him to admit it. For some horrible reason, I knew this was going to happen. "I-I didn't wanna let you down, Micha..."

"I understand, I understand. Take a breath, Jeremy." I advise, then _I_ do it. I take a breath because sometimes you just have to. I wrap my arms around Jeremy in a rather awkward way. I hope it helps.

The room grows quiet again, then Jeremy sits up in front of me. "We need to leave." He breaks the silence, digging his nails into my arms.

"Ow, Jeremy, we can't just leave. We don't have anywhere to go."

"We need to. I'm gonna be in a ton of trouble for being around you. Especially when he finds out I relapsed. I-I was clean for so long, since October..."

"I know."

"I-I was doing so good." He sounds like he's about to cry, but he holds back the tears. "We really screwed up. Really badly."

"We did." I admit. "Maybe we could try and get out of town for a _few_ days. You've got any money?"

"I have about a hundred bucks," Jeremy tells me. "Don't even know where it came from. I guess I've just been saving it for the right moment."

"Back home, I have about the same. We could put our money together, get on a bus and just let it take us wherever." I propose. Jeremy nods, a smile threatening to spread across his face. "When we get to my house, you've really gotta protect me. Those voices, th-they're getting worse, Jere."

"Will they talk to me?"

"They aren't talking to you?"

"No." He admits. I'm close to telling him how lucky he is, but my stomach growls loudly. Jeremy hears it but he doesn't say anything. He takes my hand gently. "I'll stay right behind you, Mike."


	25. twenty-four

**Michael's POV**

**December 16th, 2019**

"What do you think?"

"I think...I'm very confused. But the song is good."

"Every musical's like that. This one's a bit more confusing because you haven't read the books." Jeremy explains.

I scrunch up my face in confusion. "I have to read the books to understand the musical?"

"It'd be easier, maybe. I read the books back in sixth grade, remember?"

"No." I admit. "Is there a really sad song,  
like in the others? I wanna hear the really sad song."

"Yeah, there's a sad song. Here." Jeremy responds, handing me the earbud again. I place it back in my ear and watch as he pulls up the song.

Soon it begins, the third song from this musical that I've heard this bus ride. I adjust in my seat, trying to relieve my sore muscles. We haven't been on here for long. Only an hour or so. We got on around six this morning. It's dumb, getting up that early to run away, but it was the best chance we had of not getting caught by Jeremy's dad. I'm not sure if I should hate him or not.

Jeremy lays his head on my shoulder, yawning softly. He's been snuggling up against me the whole time. I'd hold his hand or something if I wasn't scared to. He broke up with me for a reason, and I don't want to trick either of us back into that relationship. But maybe Jeremy does. Maybe that's why he keeps cuddling me.

I got the window seat, so my eyes keep drifting to the outside. We're currently stuck in a traffic jam. As a driver, it makes me slightly frustrated, but then I remember that I'm not a driver right now and that Jeremy's cuddling me as we listen to a musical. It sort of takes my mind off of things, such as _why_ we ran away. Stupid people (also known as me) make stupid decisions and drag their friend into those decisions.

"Do you know where this bus is gonna stop?"

"I think they said Philadelphia. I don't know," I shrug. "I wasn't paying much attention."

Jeremy frowns and begins to complain, "Philadelphia isn't even that far. It's literally only fifty miles away from home."

I semi-correct him. "It's fifty miles away from the constant reminders of what we've done."

"I didn't really think about it that way. That's...depressing." He grimaces.

"Five teenagers. Five! Rich's dad didn't fucking care," I feel my chest tighten at just the mention of him. "Jake's parents haven't been there for over a year, they don't know he's gone. Jenna's parents loved her to death, so I can only imagine how they must feel right now, and Chloe's parents lost their daughter and their house."

"And Christine," Jeremy adds. He sounds like he's trying to hold back tears. "Her mom loved her..s-so much. A lot."

I sigh and look back out the window out of pure guilt, pressing my fingertips to the cold glass. The window fogs up a little bit around them. The sun has been rising slowly all morning, and I know that by the time we get to Philadelphia, it'll be bright outside yet cold as fuck. That's my weather report for you.

I mumble quietly, "Why don't you take me now, universe?"

"Mood." Jeremy responds. I'd smile if it wasn't so upsetting. Upon feeling that way, I throw my hood over my head and tug at my hoodie strings, closing the front just enough to where I can still see. I look around the bus and my eyes fixate upon the restroom. Oh God.

"I have to pee," I whisper.

"Then go pee."

"I can't! The bathroom is all the way over there."

"Pee your pants." Jeremy suggests. I roll my eyes.

"I can't pee my pants, Jeremy."

"Hold it. There's a good chance that we're close to Philadelphia, you can pee then."

"There better be a Seven-Eleven or I'm not going." I mutter. Jeremy makes a face, presumably because he's judging me for wanting to go to Seven-Eleven. "Dude, do you know how long I've gone without a slushie? I'm buying a fucking slushie and nobody can stop me. Not even you."

"Then I'm getting Hot Cheetos." He simply states.

I shrug. "Fine by me." But I feel kind of bad. I didn't know he liked Hot Cheetos. He used to hate hot foods. He'd overreact a lot if he ever tasted too much pepper...but I guess things change. I _know_ things change, and we're both subject to those changes. The horrible, scary changes, that are somehow worse than puberty.

Jeremy leans back against me, smiling contently. It's good to see a smile on his face despite what we were just talking about. He takes my hand. I can't tell why. He doesn't seem nervous. I guess he's just taking my hand because he feels like taking my hand.

The bus seems to be moving again. Slowly, but it's moving. Out of the random, Jeremy pecks my cheek. "Are you okay?" He asks.

"I guess," I respond, feeling my face flush. "Are you?"

"About the same." He sighs. He's so close to me. With much hesitation, I pull him into a deep kiss and try my best to ignore my glasses digging into our faces. The funny thing is, I feel him kissing me too. It brings me so much relief. I don't ever want to pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they were listening to the lightning thief hehe


	26. twenty-five

**Jeremy's POV**

"Where the fuck is the Sev—"

"Michael, watch out!" I warn him, but it's too late. My friend runs into an older woman with a purse who was just trying to get on the bus. I cringe when I hear him curse and say some not-so-nice things in front of her. He quickly looks back up at her.

"I am so sorry, s—" Michael's eyes widen upon realizing that this woman is not a sir and he scrambles to correct himself. "Ma'am! I'm so sorry, ma'am."

She gives him the death glare and holds her purse a bit tighter. I hope she doesn't have a weapon. "Learn some respect, why don't you?"

As soon as she's out of earshot, Michael crosses over to me and snickers. "Okay, boomer."

"Michael!"

"What?" He grins. It's nice to see his smile. "You found it funny."

"It's the way you _said_ it." I blush and cross my arms. "Come on, let's find that Seven-Eleven."

Michael giggles and takes my hand. The streets are bustling since I'm assuming that everyone's headed to work, much like the boomer woman. We pass other people while walking down the sidewalk, which wasn't unexpected since this is literally...a city.

"Hey, Michael?" I say to catch his attention. He looks at me, particularly uninterested. "Just use Google Maps. It'll show us where the—"

"Fuck Google Maps." Is the only response he gives me. I don't laugh even though I want to. I've got a feeling he's mad at me or will be mad at me, so I don't say much else. We walk in as much silence as we can in a big city like this. It isn't as big as New York, not by any means, but it's still kind of noisy.

-

Michael gasps as he spots the place we're looking for. He starts becoming all giddy and excited, which I'm sure that's from the lack of sleep. As we walk in, a bell on the door declares our entrance. The guy at the register kind of stares at us, which creeps me out. Michael pays no attention to him, he just leads me through the aisles to the self-serve slushie machine, something we lack back at home. The one at home is mostly broken and sometimes shoots sparks, so they keep it behind the counter and only let staff use it. Michael seems really enthusiastic about getting to pour his own slushie. That smile on his face says so. I find myself happy because of it.

Michael reaches for a large cup. He looks at me, "Do you want one?"

"Oh, uh...sure." I reply. Michael grins and grabs a second large cup from the cup dispenser. He begins to pour our slushies, cherry for him, and blue raspberry for me. I watch him closely and take in the calmness of the moment. Neither of us are worrying or panicking. This is a feeling I wish I could have forever, calm and content and happy. It's so nice.

"Here," Michael quickly puts the lid on the cup, stabs a straw into the cup, and he hands it to me. He takes a sip of his own slushie. "You still want those Hot Cheetos?"

I only nod in response, taking an awkward sip from my slushie. Michael takes my free hand again and we walk through the aisles again, searching for the chips. We quickly find the bag I'm searching for, Michael remarks something teasing, I pretend to laugh, and then we head to the register with our slushies and the Cheetos.

Once again, the guy at the register is staring. He seems nervous, or confused, or something. Michael seems to tense up and I can tell he's ready for anything this guy could throw our way, so I decide to try and act tough too by fixing my posture.

"Are you gonna keep staring or can we get our slushies?" Michael asks the guy in that tone he used to use when he was abusing me. I start to become nervous because of the memories, but I attempt to stay still so I don't freak out right here.

"Um..." The guy clears his throat, startled. "Sorry. That'll be five dollars and seventeen cents."

I look at Michael as a way to ask if he's paying or if I am. Well, he has our money, so he's paying either way. I'm stupid. He doesn't look back at me, he just reaches in his pocket and hands the guy a twenty dollar bill. I notice how hesitant he is to take it from Michael. Is he scary? Is _Michael_ really that scary? I mean, he was scary to me too, but that was...forever ago.

I hook my arm around his and keep him close in an attempt to assure myself he won't hurt him. I can't believe I even had that thought. There's an awkward silence as the employee gives us our change and asks for a receipt, which Michael declines the receipt in a rude manner. It makes me nervous. We leave quickly with our slushies and my chips.

-

For the next few hours, we walk. We walk anywhere we can without straying too far from any of the bus stops. We pass by all sorts of monuments and less important buildings, my hands and my feet and my face go completely numb because it's really fucking cold out here, Michael tells me stupid jokes upon noticing how nervous I've been, and it doesn't help but I pretend like it does so he can be happy. We end up sitting on a bench at a bus stop, and I'm unsure if we should leave already. I don't want to go back home.

"You need to cut your hair," Michael says with a chuckle, brushing my bangs out of my face. I blush, embarrassed, but I don't respond. His smile fades. "...You ready to head back?" He gently asks.

"No," I sigh. "I wish we could stay away longer."

"You could...maybe come with me? If you don't come home right away, I know that man won't do anything about it."

"You're right, he wouldn't..." I painfully admit. I don't mention the fact that I've been getting texts and calls from my dad all day. That'd piss Michael off, and I don't want that. "Okay. We'll stay together for a few more days."

Michael doesn't say anything. He kisses my forehead gently and takes my hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. It's therapeutic. His hand is somehow so warm. It feels so nice against my numb, cold hand. I start feeling less anxious, but it doesn't get rid of the guilt and the sadness. I lean into his side. I don't care who sees. I'm too exhausted to care about any of that.

"When we get back home, we can go to our Seven-Eleven and get some warm food. Would you like that?" Michael offers.

"I'd love that." I tell him, probably half-asleep. Being warm sounds nice right about now. I hope that bus gets here soon.


	27. twenty-six

**Jeremy's POV**

**December 20th, 2019**

"You ran off to Pennsylvania."

"It was only for a day! We were only _in_ Pennsylvania for a _day!_ " And I stayed with Michael for a few more, but that's besides the point I'm trying to make.

"You ran off to Pennsylvania with Michael, who I said you weren't allowed to be around anymore."

"I—" I pause for a moment, looking down, away from my dad. "I don't have an argument for that. But when I do—"

"I told you I didn't want you around him anymore! After you told me what had happened—"

"You're not actually doing anything about it! You haven't even tried to keep me away from him." I argue.

"Well, here it is. You're not allowed to see him again," My dad tells me. His tone lets me know that he's serious. I can't believe he's serious. "And I hate that it had to come down to this, but you're on house arrest. You aren't allowed to leave unless it's with me or if I know where you are, _who_ you're with."

Well, that rule won't be too hard to follow, I guess, since all my other friends are dead—

"Wait, you can't just take him away from me like that! He's my best friend!"

My dad doesn't respond. He gives me this look, one that makes me feel like I really deserve to disappear. I can't believe I thought our relationship was getting better. Nothing good in my life can stay good. I can't have good relationships, I can't be happy for even an afternoon, and I can't go a few months without relapsing and cutting again. I can't do anything good.

I manage to say something bitter. "If you take him away from me, I'm gonna take _me_ away from _you_. And this time I'm going to succeed."

I left the room before he could object to that.

-

"Adulting is stressful." Michael weakly says. I give a nod to show my sympathy. Despite my dad banning me from him, I'm still hanging out with him. "I want my mom."

"Me too..." I murmur. It hurts to say it. It hurts to think it.

"Sometimes I think...maybe I should've stayed home on Halloween. My parents would be here. They wouldn't have left if I would've, like, cried or something. Your friends would be alive. You probably would still be avoiding me and I'd probably be upset...but that's what would've been best for us."

"Yeah," I agree, all choked up. I don't like what he says because it's true.

I give myself a moment to try and calm down here in the temporary silence. Michael and I are out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere with a huge field, sitting in his car to stay away from the cold. This place is familiar, like if I've seen it in a dream forever ago. But our location isn't my main concern.

Michael looks over at me, his eyes big. I can see him okay in the moonlight. It makes him look pale, sort of. "...Did you really love Rich instead of me at one point?" He asks.

I give a hesitant nod. It makes me feel horrible admitting it to him. "I was scared. He was all I had."

He turns his head back to the sky. "I'm gonna admit something stupid. Sometimes I wonder if you pretended to like me the whole time we were together. Stupid, right?"

"I didn't." Not the whole time.

"I figured, but...God, it sucks. Not knowing if he really loves you."

I go to apologize, but I decide against it. My mind goes back to that time when I was torn between Rich's safety and my own. How I didn't know if he really liked me or not. How I didn't believe that Michael loved me. How I really wanted to be with Rich but I stayed with Michael and he died anyway. "It does." I agree.

"Jeremy..." Michael's breath hitches, and his voice begins to waver. "You make me so happy. Even if it doesn't seem like it. I'm really sorry for getting you in trouble, a-and for everything else, and—"

"Please take a breath, Michael, you're freaking me out."

"I just love you so much. It's been that way on and off since the seventh grade." He takes my hand and struggles to intertwine our fingers. It seems to add to his frustration. "Y-You're just so amazing and I'm not and I'm horrible."

"I'm far from that, Michael. I'm just as horrible as you are."

It doesn't take me very long to realize that wasn't the right thing to say, but Michael doesn't care. He seems to smile for a moment, then that smile falters. I can see the pain. I feel it too.

"I need my family back. I can't deal with bills or rent notices. It...It feels like I killed them, when I know I didn't."

"You could always move in with your aunt and your cousins...that's what my dad told me once. When he... _dies_ , I could move in with mine." I tell Michael, hoping that it helps. But it just makes me think about my dad dying, and I have no clue how to feel about that. I decide that I _should_ be sad when it happens.

"Good idea, but..." He lets out a soft, shaky sigh. "I'd have to live there. They'd have to deal with my anxiety attacks and all the bad parts about me. What if I...what if I spill? And what if I tell them just how bad I am?"

I cup Michael's face in my hands and make him look at me. Tears threaten to spill from his dark eyes. I feel a pang in my chest. "Please stop freaking out over this."

He inhales sharply as he grabs my forearms, digging his nails into them. I flinch. "Jeremy, it's _bad!_ Can't you see that? Everyone knows how bad I am!"

"I know it's bad! Why do you think I have to _sneak out_ to meet you? I _know_. But please calm down."

His grip loosens and he lets go of my arms. "You...snuck out? Why?"

I swallow. "I'm not allowed to see you anymore."

"So...you were really telling the truth? You'd get in trouble for being with me?" His voice is soft again. I slowly nod to confirm. "How come...? It's not like...it's not like you told him anything, right?"

I freeze. I guess I should've said something sooner. He's going to find out right now and I have no idea what could happen. He could hurt me again. I could hurt him. I leave his question unanswered.

"You're kidding." It's not soft anymore. My heart starts pounding. "You told him _everything?!_ "

"Michael—"

"You told him that I killed them, y-you confessed to what you did! He thinks we're monsters, Jeremy, we _are_ monsters!" Michael's breathing quickens. He slides his hands into his hair. I have a feeling that he's about to do something bad.

"...You." I quietly say after a few moments.

He turns his head toward me. "What?"

"He thinks...he thinks _you're_ a monster. Not me."

His hands leave his hair and he sits up. "How?! If you told him everything, then how—" A pause. A realization. My heart's pounding. "You blamed what _you_ did on _me?_ "

"I-I couldn't let him think that about me!" Wrong thing to say. My heart's pounding.

"Oh, so you made _me_ look bad because you didn't want to ruin your _perfect image?_ Do you know how _fucked_ that is?!" Michael's anger-filled voice overflows the space around us. Tears form in my eyes and memories come back. My heart's pounding.

It all gets to me. I shrink down to appear smaller and I scream, "Please don't hurt me!" While pretending to look down at my feet on the floorboard when my eyes are really squeezed shut. Silence, and a lot of it too. I start trying to catch my breath and I refuse to let myself cry, but tears fall down my face anyway.

"I can't fucking believe you. I was _done_ with hurting you," His voice is full of bitterness. I let out a weak sob. "And that little thing you did at the Seven-Eleven? When you held me closer so that I didn't _hurt_ the guy who was staring? I noticed. I might be dense at times, Jeremy, but I notice more than you think I do, like how you'd check your phone any time you thought I wasn't watching."

I look back up through teary eyes. I wipe the tears away, the best that I can. I see the old Michael. Not the one I missed. The one I wish I never met. The one who had tried to kill me, who hurt me, who hurt the people I loved. He no longer looks sensitive like he did when I first saw him tonight. He seems to have forgotten about the conversation we had just a moment ago. His eyes meet mine with a cold, piercing stare, and I look away because I'm scared.

He seems to scoff at the action. "I thought we were trying to _heal_. I thought that...that maybe we'd be lucky enough to be _happy_. But _you_ had to go and screw things up," He spits. I feel the pain of the words deep down. I wallow in that pain, and in my guilt, and in the silence. Michael doesn't say another word to me.


	28. twenty-seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit is about to go down!! even more than it already has!

**Jeremy's POV**

**December 21st, 2019**

I get home around midnight. I don't understand how I spent so much time talking with Michael. Maybe there was more silence than I think there was. What I want to do right now is sleep, and try to fill a void, to try and stop the pain at least temporarily. I want to sleep more than anything in the world, but my actions have consequences and I know I'm in deep shit when my dad calls into work just so he can have a talk with me. I was going to avoid it by sneaking in the back door, but he's got me all figured out. The back door leads into the dining room, where my dad is sitting when I open the door. I freeze immediately.

"Where were you?" Dad inquires.

I simply blink and my mind seems to be functioning again. "I just...I just needed time alone." I lie, relaxing my muscles a little bit. I don't need to be so tense.

"You spent hours away from home, past your curfew. I was worried sick."

Guilt. "I know, I'm sorry—"

"Were you really alone?" There's that question again. I can't run away from it. He won't believe a lie. My getting away with things days are over.

I start growing frustrated. "Would it matter? Would you _care?_ "

"I _do_ care," My dad seems to defend himself. I don't believe that he cares. "You were with him again, weren't you? I told you—"

"Keep him out of this," I snap. "He doesn't want anything to do with me. I hope that makes _you_ happy." It sure as hell doesn't make _me_ happy. I head upstairs and I don't bother waiting for a response. I seem to hear whispers in the dark of the hallway, and I tell them to shut up in my head. They comply.

-

My skin is tinted a light pink from the burning water of the hot shower. It seems to everything else stand out, my freckles, some of my scars and oddly, the color of my eyes. Or the lack of color in them. I quickly slip my boxers on and avoid looking at myself in the foggy mirror. I wouldn't have been able to see myself anyway.

I shiver as I step out into the hallway, the cold air of the rest of my house hitting my skin. It brings relief to the burning. The silence is intimidating. The only sound I can really hear is the pitter-patter of my feet as I walk to my room.

I search my drawers for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, which I find both pretty quickly. The fabrics feel so soft against my hands. It's nice. I throw the shirt on and contemplate if I should put my jeans on. I'm planning on going to sleep even though it's six in the morning, so I don't really need pants. It reminds me too much of what my dad used to be, though, so I put them on with a deep sigh.

I yawn loudly and stretch, then I rub my eyes to try to keep myself awake. I don't _need_ to sleep right now. I crawl the short distance across the floor to my dresser and I go to close the drawers I left open, but I spot something hiding in the corner of one of them. Black, metallic, scary-looking. I take it into my hands and put it in the light.

A...gun? When did that show up?

Suddenly, I recognize the weapon and I tense up. I know where this came from. I know whose gun this is. I don't remember how it got in my room. It wasn't ever in my room until now. Memories start replaying in my head and I feel an intense amount of fear like I did in that moment.

_"How'd you even—?" What I was going to say before he cut me off: How'd you even find out that Rich liked me?_

_"I didn't ask for questions," Michael snapped. Tense. Scary. He sighed and slowly relaxed. "...What am I doing?" He backed away and released his grip on me. I felt relief wash over me, until he walked over to his dresser and opened a drawer. I saw a smirk for a moment as he pulled something out of there._

_I caught a full glimpse of the object in his hand and swallowed hard. "I-Is that real?"_

_"No, it's fake," Michael retorted. I felt the sarcasm from across the room, but I didn't say anything. "Yes, it's real!"_

_"If you hurt any of our friends—"_

_He cut me off, "Your friends, darling."_

_"Okay,_ my _friends. If anybody else gets hurt—"_

_"Shut it." He snapped. I flinched, which made him chuckle. "I'm not going to shoot anybody, are you nuts? I wouldn't want to kill anyone."_

_I knew that wasn't true. I began to speak, but Michael had stopped me. "You're going to keep your mouth shut about this or you're first. I'm not asking for any commentary from that pretty little mouth of yours."_

_I felt my hands shake, but I ignored it. I was focused on Michael, the boy who used to become so ecstatic when I'd tap his shoulder at lunch because he couldn't hear me approaching with his headphones on. Who used to tell me to shut up_ only _so he could hear his Bob Marley, even though it was blaring already. Who used to spend so much time with his moms and would always drag me along because I was a part of their family. Who was there for me for years, who was my_ real _first kiss, and who I shouldn't have ever betrayed. Maybe if I hadn't taken a SQUIP, I'd have the same boy that Michael used to be. Not this...this..._ monster _._

_"Save whatever you have to say for the shower, you know, whenever you're alone. I don't want to hear what you have to say because it's not that important to me what you think anymore. I'm going to put this away and, hopefully, not have to take it out again. Okay?" I nodded, afraid to speak._

_"Good." He placed the gun gently in the back of the drawer with a little smile._

I trace along the cold metal with the pads of my fingers. It feels heavy in my hand, my clammy, shaking hand. I hold it like I'm about to use it, but I don't know _how_. I _know_ that Michael didn't know how to use it either, now thinking about it. I just let him scare me with it. Why did I do that?

My finger presses up against the trigger and I flinch, but I don't use enough force to fire. I quickly discover that the gun hasn't even been cocked, ever. How do I know it's loaded?

I make a 'tsk' sound. _Oh, well. I guess there's only one way to find out._ I struggle to figure out how to cock it, even though I feel like I should know this, but I figure it out pretty quickly. Oh my God.

I slowly press the barrel to my forehead. The metal feels cold. My shaking finger hovers over the trigger. I can't believe I'm about to do this. I didn't want to have to say goodbye this early. I didn't want to do it now, but I think the world's better off without the mistake I am. Nobody needs me. They just keep me around so they can scare me. It brings them joy, does it not?

Hot tears burn my eyes. This is wrong. I don't need to do this. I can't end the story this early, but my fingers wrap around the grip even tighter. I press the barrel against my forehead deeper. I close my eyes tightly and my tears fall down my cheeks. I let out a weak sob as my mind drifts to Michael, and how he might react. Would he care? Would he cry? Would he do the same thing? Would he _notice?_

Would _anybody_ even notice?

My head overflows with these thoughts. I'm having a hard time trying to convince myself not to shoot my brains out. I could do it and not have to worry about anyone dying ever again, because I won't be here to suffer through even more pain. I'd finally get what I'd wanted for so long. I'd get to see my friends, my friends, my _friends._ They wouldn't want this, but I know that they won't stay mad once I show up.

I decide that I should do it. I'm not needed in this world and I never will be. I squeeze the grip again and ignore my lungs' need for air, my hyperventilating, my shaking. My finger traces the trigger. It's cold. "I'm not sorry." I whisper to whoever's listening.

Then I hear the door open. My eyes widen.

"Jeremy?"

I panic.

 _BANG_.


	29. twenty-eight

**Jeremy's POV**

There's dirt and blood on my hands. _So much blood._ There's tear tracks down my cheeks, but I pay no attention to them. I pat the dirt one last time with the shovel just to make sure it's compact. I just dug a hole in my backyard and dumped the body. I leave the shovel in the middle of the yard. My arm hurts from knockback, recoil, or whatever you want to call it. It's the only pain I feel right now. I'm pretty much numb otherwise. I can't believe I just did that. I refuse to believe _I_ just did that. One person, my _ex-girlfriend,_ was enough, but I freaked and...

I wipe some sweat from my forehead, smudging the dirt-blood mixture onto it. I can't get this buzzing noise out of my head. The cold begins to nip at my skin, so I decide to head back into my house, where it's so quiet and where time seems to freeze. I avoid looking at the pictures on the walls.

I step into the bathroom, where I was just a while ago. Time passes by so slowly. I look in the mirror and I realize how much blood is splattered on my clothes. How much I smudged on my face. How much is on my hands. I feel my eyes sting. I turn the sink on and begin to wash my hands, the warm water beginning to wash the mistake off.

"You're horrible,"

I know. I know I'm horrible. I put the soap on my hands and begin scrubbing, making sure I can try to get under my short nails. The water flowing to the drain becomes a strange color. I wait for someone to come. You don't ever hear gunshots in this neighborhood. We're usually quiet. But nobody's rushing over to see if everything's okay. No sirens. Nothing.

Just silence.

I turn the water off and pick up the towel that rests on the sink. I dry off my hands, using a little more force to scrub off what I might have left on my hands, then I look back up at the mirror. My hair's a mess. I really do need to get that haircut. I look pale, ghostly, almost, which contrasts with the blood. My eyes are dull and lifeless, slightly red and glassy. I look miserable.

I break eye contact with myself and I find a washcloth. I turn the water back on and run the cloth underneath hot water, slightly burning my hands in the process. I wring out the water and wipe the crap off my face, scrubbing until my skin is pink. I make sure to get every little bit of it off. Once I'm done, I toss it in the sink and I shut the water off again.

I spend a while cleaning the house. I can't just keep that trail of blood that leads from my room to the back door. It doesn't look very...welcoming. I try my best to wipe it up with dirty towels, then I mop up as much residue as I can, and then I have to get on my knees and scrub the rest to make sure I get it all gone. I can't believe it's come down to this.

When I'm done, I head back to my room and take my shoes and my shirt off. I change into a different pair of jeans and throw the bloody clothes into my clothes basket. I stare at the ceiling, feeling nothing for a good while, then I look under my bed for my gray hoodie. I find it quickly and shake it out, then I toss it on.

Soon, my phone's in my hands and I'm calling Michael. I don't expect an answer, but he picks up on the second ring. There's a tense silence between us. I wonder if he's saying hello and I can't hear him. I hope it's not one of those moments.

"Hey, Michael..." I say, testing the waters.

"Jeremy," His voice throws me off. He sounds relieved to hear from me, like if he's been waiting for my call. "Look, I'm so s—"

"Where are you at?"

"Oh, uh, not at home. I'm kinda just chillin', I guess. Is something wrong...?"

"Could you come over? I'll give you...gas money," I offer. I don't care what I need to do. I just need him here. I need to feel something, whether it be anger or guilt or whatever. Just _something_.

"I don't need you to give me gas money," Michael says, followed by a short silence. "What about your dad?"

"Don't worry about it." I tell him, feeling my heart ache when I say it. He doesn't know. He's going to react poorly when he finds out. I might be in danger again if so, but is Michael going to really hurt me more than I've already hurt myself? I doubt it. "Just come over?"

"Yeah. I'll be there," He responds with no hesitation and with no clue about what's happened.

-

Michael's presence is the only thing that's keeping me tied to reality. I'm fazed, but I don't know what for. We haven't spoken much. We're sitting on my bed. He's fidgeting with his hoodie, something I notice sometimes. I want to spill. I want to tell him everything so badly. The way he's sad makes me feel guilty and I feel the guilt of the murder worse.

"I found your gun..." I finally say. That's it. I only found the gun.

"I...I knew you would've eventually," Michael admits, looking at me with a broken glance. My heart nearly stops. "I couldn't keep it at home. I knew I'd kill myself. What'd you do with it?"

"I didn't do anything." I quickly say.

"Jeremy, I know when you're lying."

"I'm not lying,"

"When I said 'what'd you do with it?', I meant 'where did you put it?'" He tells me. Oh my God, I'm so dumb. "But now you're worrying me."

"I'm, uh...sorry." I apologize. "It's in the drawer. Right where you left it. Untouched. Well, I mean, I looked at it, so it's not untouched but..."

Michael gives me this weird look before heading to my dresser. He sits down in front and opens the drawer I had just opened hours before, the drawer I was looking in just three minutes before I commit murder. He digs through the drawer and finds the gun right where he had left it.

"Uh...it smells...odd," He takes the gun into his hands. My heart rate increases. He inspects it for a moment before turning his gaze toward me. "Jeremy, there's, like, gunpowder or something on here. There's something you aren't telling me."

"I didn't notice." I lie. Michael doesn't believe the lie.

"...You did it again, didn't you?"

My heart drops. I need an excuse. "Michael, I—"

"You're turning into me. You never wanted that. You didn't—Fuck," Michael's eyes brim with tears and he puts the gun back. He closes the drawer. He sniffles. "This isn't what I wanted. This...we're _broken_. We're fucking broken, Jeremy. Can't be fixed now."

"Please don't leave," I grab his arm when he stands up. His eyes widen. My eyebrows furrow and I grow concerned. My voice goes quiet, "You love me, don't you?"

"Of course I love you," He tells me, but it _sounds_ so _fake_.

"...What about now? Do you love me more? Now that...that I..." I don't admit what I did. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. "I did it for us."

"I never thought I'd be in your shoes. Never thought you'd be in mine," Michael says, sounding broken. He peels my hand away from his arm and gives me one last look. "I...I'll call you when I'm ready to talk again."

It starts to finally hit me when he leaves.

I'm just as bad as Michael.


	30. twenty-nine

**Jeremy's POV**

**January 10th, 2020**

"I thought he was getting better. He even had a boyfriend," Heidi continues to tell me about her son, a smile appearing and then faltering every now and again. "I came home from work one night and..."

"You don't need to finish the story." I tell her. I don't want to hear the rest of it. I _know_ he killed himself. His room remains off-limits to me. I know it's filled with his things.

"I'm sorry, Jeremy. It's been over a year and..." She fake laughs, a sad sound. It hurts. "The wound is still fresh."

"I understand." I say.

After my dad died, I reached out to Heidi (the nurse from the hospitals) and asked her for a place to stay. I twisted the truth and said it was because of heart complications, which aren't uncommon in my family. She was crushed by the news, especially since she apparently knew my dad and was seeing him, like, romantically, but she gladly let me into her home and I've been living here ever since. I've kept her company when she comes home in the night due to my insomnia. I've been having nightmares and sleep paralysis, so I've been scared to sleep.

"Well, kiddo," Heidi sighs, getting up from the table. "I've gotta get some rest. I know I just got here and all, but..."

"It's okay," I promise her. "I'll be alright."

"You're always so sweet." She smiles and ruffles my hair. "Try and get some rest, kiddo, okay?"

"I'll try, Heidi," I say. "Thank you."

She heads to her bedroom, and after a while I do the same. My room is empty, sort of. There's a bed in the corner. A dresser against the wall. I took everything I wanted to and I left the less important things at my dad's house, where they'll stay until I get my own car and my own place.

I was thinking of trying to learn a different language to pass the time. I know Hebrew (but I know I can't maintain an _entire_ conversation in it), whatever Spanish I learned back in school, and some French. I've forgotten most of the Tagalog. I stopped caring about that forever ago. I figured this could kind of be like my school, I'd be learning something. But I decide to save it for another day.

I checked the news like how I used to. I've dug through the internet and found lots of stuff about how four Middleborough High students died in a house fire. About how one student is still missing, even though it's January and he went missing in October and he's never going to be seen again because only I know the truth. About how two people died in a car accident shortly after leaving a get-together in the early morning of November first. I can't believe this is my world. I know what happened to my friends. I can't tell them.

I'm torn away from this depressing realization by noticing my phone screen light up the partial dark. The light outside the window keeps the room dim. I grab my phone and notice the unknown number. I'm tempted to not answer it, but nobody's called me in forever, so I answer.

"Hello?" I say quietly.

On the other line, I hear heavy breathing. I hold onto my phone a bit tighter. "You've either got to be playing a prank on me or this is one of those IRS scam callers."

"They've got me figured out. I-I need somewhere to go, Jeremy, please?"

"Michael?" I haven't heard his voice in forever. I'm so confused. "Who's got you figured out? What's happening?"

"Jeremy, Jeremy, please listen to me," He breathes. "I need a place to go. Where the fuck are you?"

"Why should I help you? After everything you've done—"

"If you try to start something right now, I'll make sure they know who you _killed_ too!"

I tell him the address out of pure panic. "What'd you do?" I demand. When he doesn't respond, I grow more angry than any other emotion. "What'd you do?!"

"Look, don't worry about it, okay?! It's not your business!" He says. I don't reply because I'm scared. "I'm gonna hang up now. Tell me that address one more time."

-

I was completely unprepared to see Michael. I didn't think he'd be battered and bruised. His eye is nearly swollen shut and it's swollen purple. His lip is busted. His hair's a mess and he's very noticeably disheveled. Dried blood made a trail down his chin from his nose. I nearly turn my head at the sight, but it's like a car accident. I can't look away.

"Oh my God," I mutter.

"I know. I know I look like shit," Michael says lowly, almost in a growl. "This is what happens when—"

"Who hurt you?" I question, unbothered by the fact that I cut him off.

"Some of the popular kids," He murmurs, like he's embarrassed. "I don't even know how they...how they found out."

"How do you know _that's_ what they did it for?"

"Name-dropping!" He snaps. I flinch. I should've kept quiet. "They talked about Rich, they talked about Jake, they talked about Brooke, and _you!_ They said anything they could about me hurting you and Rich—"

"Wait, you _hurt_ Rich?"

"Why do you think he hated me so much?!" Michael sniffles, trying to hold his tears back. "I-I was _trying_ to be good, I was helping him get better, th-then I betrayed him like how I did you. The only difference is that _you_ dealt with it."

I knew they were in a relationship before. I wasn't ever paying attention. I had my own to worry about. I try to remember if I saw any signs, anything that could've helped me when I began dating Michael, but a lot of my memories from after the SQUIP are blurry. They dated for a while, from November to May, I remember that much.

Suddenly, a memory appears out of nowhere.

_"You like Michael, don't you?" Rich had asked. We were at the mall, waiting for said boy to finish his business in the restroom. It was just the three of us that day._

_Rich's question made me feel embarrassed. Christine and I had broken up around January on good terms, and I'd discovered my feelings for my friend just a few weeks after. I didn't realize that Rich would find out about my feelings for Michael, and find out so quickly._

_"I...It doesn't matter if I do," I had said. "He likes you."_

_"Does he?" Rich said, more to himself than me. "It's...it's okay if you like him, Jeremy. I wouldn't pursue a relationship with him, though."_

_"I wasn't really planning on it?" I said, confused. "Is something wrong?"_

_"There's a lot you_ should _know," He responded, seeming paranoid. "I can't say much, I'd be in trouble if I did."_

_"Trouble? What...what trouble?" I started thinking. Was Michael...hurting Rich? It would've explained the weird way Rich had been acting. "Is he—"_

_"Alright, hoes, I'm back," Michael seemed to appear out of nowhere. Rich and I were startled, and we stared. Rich had fear in his eyes for a good moment. "What's up?"_

_"Oh, we were just talking. Nothing important." I said, looking at Michael with a fake smile. I could feel Rich's nervousness. I felt horrible for him._

_"We're still headed to the food court, right?" Michael asked. Rich was giving Michael a nod when I looked back at him. He looked at his boyfriend and attempted to smile as Michael took his hand. I would've been lying if I said it didn't make me feel a bit jealous, but I was mainly scared for Rich. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew it wasn't good._

"This is a different conversation for a different time," I respond. "Let's clean you up. Tell me what happened."

"I-I don't know how it started," Michael says in a shaky voice. "I just...I just remember it being dark. I don't know who they were. I don't pay attention to people from school."

I watch him, noticing his quivering lip. He continues, "They called me certain things, certain words. I decided to maybe try and stick up for myself, b-but when I threw a punch, I was slammed to the ground. Couldn't breathe. Then they beat me up really badly."

"You've got cuts everywhere."

"Oh, that too. They had fun with a knife," He laughs tiredly. It's a fake laugh. "Found my scars from forever ago and decided to make some more."

"I can't..."

"Then don't." Michael sighs. He looks around the room. "Whose house is this?"

"It's...who would've been my stepmom, it's hers. I didn't even know that until I showed up here. She was just Nurse Heidi to me before that."

"She knows I abused you, doesn't she?"

"I had to tell her,"

"I'm not mad about it. Just don't know how you're gonna explain why I'm in her house."

There's another awkward silence. I really don't know how I'm going to explain this to Heidi. I really hope she doesn't try to kick him out. He has nowhere else to go.

"I'm...I'm so confused," Michael nervously laughs, breaking me from my thoughts. "You broke up with me. But we've kissed...a lot since then."

"Uh..." I'm embarrassed. That's partially my fault. "I don't know. I don't know why I keep doing that."

"I do it because I love you," That makes me feel guilty. "But I know you don't feel the same way."

"Maybe I do, but I think we should hold off on this conversation..."

"Okay," He stares at me. "So, now what?"

"I have no fucking clue." I admit.

"That makes two of us." Michael says. "I wanna stay, Jeremy. I don't want to be apart from you again. Bad things happen without you—"

"And bad things happen with me," I say. "You aren't any better with me than without."

"I...You weren't there when I had that argument with Rich, and then he died not even five minutes after it started. You were downstairs, away from me, when I started that fire. I got beat to a pulp out on my own. I..." He looks at me. He looks like he might start crying. "I need you."

"You don't,"

"I do," He says. I look down. I guess he figures out that I don't want to have this conversation anymore, so he says; "Come on. Let's clean me up."


	31. thirty

**Jeremy's POV**

**January 12th, 2020**

I wake up with Michael in my arms. He's so warm and squishy. He's nice to hug. The room is so quiet that I can hear his breathing, but maybe he's just breathing loudly. I groan softly and wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth, wanting to get up but knowing I can't. Michael's a heavy sleeper, but not when it involves cuddles. If I move any more, he'll wake up.

I look up into the dark, and my mind begins to race. It took a lot of convincing for Heidi to let Michael stay, but I'm honestly glad she did. I hated being isolated. Despite all the awkwardness, we've been comforting each other. I stopped mentioning the murders. I finally slept, but I didn't dream. I just _slept_.

I notice that Michael's beginning to stir, mewling quietly. I become more alert, hoping that _I_ didn't disturb his sleep. He stretches and pushes himself away from me for a moment to do so, but then he curls right back into a ball and presses up against me again. I think he's sleeping again until he sits up. I feel his stare.

"Good mornin', Jere." He says. His voice is quiet, it's soft.

"Morning," I respond just as quietly. I sit up against the wall and yawn, looking back at Michael when I come to. There's a moment of hesitation, then he crawls over and plops himself right onto my lap. I nearly squeak because he's honestly kind of heavy and that was my dick he just sat on, but I keep quiet.

Michael pushes my bangs out of my eyes, sighing contently. The little amount of light in the room shows a little sign of a smile on his battered face. The swelling's gone down a little bit, but the damage is still there.

He plays with my hair for a moment, then the next thing I know, he's kissing me. It's a sweet kiss and it isn't the first one we've shared in the past two days. I haven't been thinking the right way. I'm stuck between loving and hating him, leaning more toward the first option. I know I shouldn't, but I do.

Michael's hands slide into my hair and he pulls me in closer, practically demanding that our foreheads be touching. I wrap my arms around his torso, pressing our bodies closer together. The moment's personal and intimate, and it feels _normal_ and it feels _good_ and it feels _right_. We sort of make out for a few moments before I force myself to pull away.

"Your morning breath tastes like ass." Michael says with a chuckle. I feel embarrassed. Although I think his statement would make him do otherwise, he presses another kiss to my lips.

"How do you know what ass tastes like, hm?" I teasingly say once he pulls away.

"I'm looking at how I know right now." He responds with a cocky smile.

"Ew," I make a face. "I was joking."

"I wasn't." He laughs and rolls off my lap. He sits at my side and leans into me, head on my shoulder. "I know what we're gonna do today."

"Fuck?" I hopefully ask.

"Nope," Michael says. "Something much, much different."

I feel a pinch of disappointment, but I brush it away. "Then what are we doing?"

"It's a little surprise," He tells me, stretching again. He yawns loudly and then relaxes. "We'll go later."

After a while of talking, we're back to cuddling. I can tell that something's off about Michael. Very off. There's some sort of disturbing, creepy vibe I'm getting from him. I know he's being more affectionate than usual, but that's not the weird part, it's his tone of voice and the odd looking smiles. I might be overthinking, but...usually, when I think he's acting weird, he's acting weird. It's not just a feeling I get. It comes true a lot.

-

A few hours later, we're where Michael was wanting to take me. It's a riverbank that isn't too far out and on some abandoned property. This place has some memories attached to it. I remember coming here last summer with Michael and looking for tadpoles and shit like that. I honestly hope that maybe we could do that again this year. It'd only be the two of us, and I'm sure we'd be really busy trying to find jobs to get our own places, but I can still hope.

I figure we're just going to maybe skip stones or something. Stupid boyish shit like that. But instead of stopping to pick up stones, Michael grabs onto my arm tightly and starts dragging me farther than the scattered little round stones that line the bank, down a steep, muddy slope to the river. The water's rushing, sort of. I'm okay with rivers, but not when they look like they could swallow you whole.

"Michael, what are you doing?"

"I'm crazy." He simply states.

"Yeah, uh, I kinda figured?" I pull my arm in the other opposite direction, but he holds on tighter. "Let go of me."

"You weren't supposed to agree with me." He grumbles, ignoring my request. We're getting closer to the water.

"Michael, I'm serious, let _go_ of me." I warn.

"You know what today is?"

"January twelfth," I think about it for a while. I remember wanting to kill myself on this day because it's the day my mom decided she didn't want to be around anymore. Kind of like the way I didn't want to be around, so I planned out my own suicide, but I dropped those plans as soon as I got to the mental hospital. "Wait, how do you know—"

"Rich's ghost is actually super fun to talk to. He's given me some useful information," He explains. "Useful so I could do this."

"Wha—"

I feel that hand quickly move and a force on my chest, sending me backward into the freezing water. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. Suddenly, I'm underneath the surface. Oh my gods. I feel like I'm on fire, a cold, icy fire that I can feel pulsing through my veins. I try to come up for air multiple times, but my head gets pushed back down with more force than the last time.

As a last resort, I try to scream again. I scream under the water and I manage to shoot back up, successfully screaming for a moment there, but I'm quickly forced back underneath. I begin to realize that struggling is hopeless. He'll keep pushing me under and he'll be the one in control of how long I live. I knew I wasn't going to live very long, but I didn't...

I start suffocating. My lungs need air. My body tries to make me breathe, but I instead fill my lungs with water and it all makes it worse. I close my eyes tightly. I feel the force on my head.

It's so dark under here and so cold. I want to cry, but you can't cry underwater. I want Michael, or maybe I just want him to change. I'm hoping he'll learn his lesson with the next boy. I hope he decides to treat him like a human being.

We can't have what we want, though. I know he won't change. He didn't change for me after Rich, so I know he won't change after this is over. If he didn't want me around anymore, he could've just...dumped me. Preferably _not_ in a river.

It's so cold. I'm suffocating. It hurts. It all hurts. My muscles are sore and the water feels like it's filling my lungs even more. I open my eyes and see nothing but murk, then it all gets dark, even with my stinging eyes open. I don't hear much after that.

My life seems to flash before my eyes. There's so much of it that I can't even begin to describe.

_I can't believe I ended up here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck
> 
> Maybe if Jeremy just dumped Michael and got with Rich, nobody would've died
> 
> That would've made a way better story.
> 
> AnYWAY
> 
> the end. :)
> 
> I wanna thank everyone who read this story all the way through, because you're brave as hell. I lost so many of my readers, some being my closest friends, because of this story and it makes me feel horrible thinking about it. This really all started as a vent back in July and I'm so glad I didn't give up on it.
> 
> The characters and their emotions changed so many times throughout this story, much like myself. I'm not going into detail, but I wanna thank you guys for being here and for reading some of the most raw emotions I've ever put into a story. It means a lot.
> 
> Thank you for not killing me after I killed everyone except for Brooke...
> 
> And Michael. Fuck. He's still alive. Shit what are we gonna do?
> 
> ...are we gonna make a sequel...?
> 
> ANYWAY!!! I love you and thank you, AGAIN, for everything. I'm gonna go into a coma now.
> 
> -micha (@/nefltix)


End file.
